


lost, found, and lost again

by CC_Writes_Stuff



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ashen Wolves | Cindered Shadows Spoilers, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Church Route Spoilers, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route Spoilers, Friends to Lovers, Kidnapping, Original Character(s), Post-Time Skip, Silver Snow spoilers, Slow Burn, Verdant Wind Spoilers, Worldbuilding, byleth is dense, i cant title, i headcanon that claude has a very dysfunctional family, no beta we die like Glenn, no idea what the hell im doing, slight PTSD, slight discrimination/xenophobia too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:35:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 45,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22092682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CC_Writes_Stuff/pseuds/CC_Writes_Stuff
Summary: The war with the Empire and TWSITD may be over, but the effects are still being felt all throughout Fodlan, and Byleth is no exception. Between trying to piece together and protect the new, unified Fodlan and dealing with the dreams and visions from her past, she has no time to herself.But although many people managed to survive the war, there's still one person who lingers in the back of Byleth's mind. So, turning away from a pile of bureaucratic paperwork and the crushing duties of being Archbishop, Byleth sets her sights to Almyra to find a certain missing emerald-eyed schemer.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 34
Kudos: 116





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not my first Claudeleth fanfiction but my first longfic that i'm somehow getting through despite the fact i don't have an outline.
> 
> Anyways I love these two dorks and I'm a little upset Claude went missing during Silver Snow. And since as far as I know i haven't seen any other claudeleth silver snow aus it appears im going to bear this burden myself. hope you enjoy my no-outlined story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A half-year after the Battle of Grondor and only a month after Rhea's death and her coronation as the new Archbishop, Byleth shoves her new duties as an Archbishop aside to start her search for Claude

**Horsebow Moon, 9/26**

“You’re going to do what?”

Byleth sighed as she wrapped the Sword of the Creator up in some fabric, glancing at Seteth out of the corner of her eye.

“I said I’ll be going away for a bit,” Byleth repeated slowly, glancing back down at her sword.

“No, I heard you the first time, Prof- err, Archbishop,” Seteth said, before sighing. “But… you’re going away? Why? For how long? Do I need to come with you?”

“Yes, there’s something I need to do, I don’t know, and no,” Byleth said, turning to the advisor. Seteth crossed his arms over his chest, frowned.

Although the war had ended a little over a month ago, the advisor still maintained a constant look of tiredness and annoyance. Byleth didn’t blame him, though. Even with the war done, there was still so much that needed to be done, such as repairs to the monastery, rebuilding Fodlan in general, and paperwork. So much paperwork.

“You’re not trying to run away from all the paperwork, are you, Lady Byleth?” Seteth asked, raising a brow and trying to maintain a steady composure.

“That’s a part of it, yes, but the real reason is… something else,” Byleth said, glancing down at the sword, then glancing away. “Something personal. Something that I need to do. Or, rather, want to do.”

“Personal?” Seteth asked. Byleth nodded, but still kept her mouth shut. Even now, talking about personal stuff wasn’t something that came easy to her. Dad was dead, Sothis had vanished, and many of the former students who she might be able to talk to were gone now, back to their homes and responsibilities and dreams.

She trusted Seteth, sure, but it felt… odd, to say the least, talking about personal stuff with him. Like their relationship had turned much too formal than it had been during the war. Catherine and Shamir had left, and she wasn’t close enough with Hanneman, Cyril or Manuela to talk about personal stuff, either. Alois was a possibility, though, but still.

“Is this about Claude?”

Byleth’s head snapped to Seteth, then she frowned, nodded.

“Yeah. How did you know?”

“Ever since the mess that was Grondor, you’ve been looking for the Duke non-stop,” Seteth reminded her. Which hadn’t done so well, either.

It had been nearly a half-year since the mess that was Grondor, and neither Claude nor his body still hadn’t appeared anywhere in Fodlan. There were no reports that he had died at the battle, but neither Edelgard nor Hubert confirmed or denied whether he was dead or not, or whether he had been captured.

And despite searching every prison in the former Empire and Dukedom, he wasn’t in any of them. The only options left were that he was alive and disappeared, or worse, he was dead, and just hadn’t been found yet. Byleth believed that it was the former; he was smart enough to know when to retreat, and stealthy enough to easily disappear in Fodlan. Though his dark skin was a bit of a dead giveaway; not many people in Fodlan had dark skin and were Fodlan-born.

“Lady Byleth, it’s been half a year since he went missing,” Seteth said, voice quiet. “It might be time to accept the fact that he might very well be dead.”

“And I was missing for five years, and yet here I stand,” Byleth reminded him a little more sharply than she meant, picking up the Sword of the Creator. It’s once-familiar weight now felt uneasy and far too heavy in her hands; it had felt that way ever since she killed Edelgard. The pulsing feeling of it wasn’t helping its cause, either.

Sighing, Byleth sheathed the sword, the fabric soft and smooth in her hands. “Besides, Dimitri and Edelgard… they’re both confirmed dead. But there’s been no trace of Claude’s body; it’s as if he just disappeared. And… and if I can make sure that at least one of the three survived, I’m hoping it’ll help me sleep easier at night. I couldn’t save either Dimtri or Edelgard. But if Claude’s still out there, somewhere, well…”

“And I suppose your heart is already set on this, Byleth?” Seteth asked in a half-dejected voice. Byleth nodded, turning to the advisor.

“Yes,” she confirmed. “I’m sure you can take care of my duties here for a bit.”

“You do realize that we have diplomatic negotiations with the king and queen of Almyra in a few weeks, though, right?” Seteth asked. “Since Fodlan has a new ruler, and it’s new and… shall I say, weak, I want to make sure that we get this hammered out before an invasion happens.”

“Actually, I’ve heard it’s going to be postponed for a bit,” Byleth said, glancing at her desk, with its pile of paperwork. It was practically falling off the desk, and she felt a little bit bad for leaving Seteth here with all this. But her students came first, and Claude was the only one she had to make sure was safe. Then she could fully embrace her role as Archbishop.

“It has?” Seteth asked, and when Byleth glanced back at him, his eyes were wide. Then his brow furrowed, lips turning down into a frown. “Why?”

“Apparently, the queen and king are retiring soon, and they’re going to be crowning the next ruler in a few months,” Byleth said, remembering the letter she got from an Almyran diplomat the other day. “Since both lands are getting a new ruler in a short amount of time, they decided that it would be better for both countries if, and I quote, ‘let the young ones handle our shit.’ It makes sense, too, since that way we won’t have to revise once the new ruler is crowned.”

“Ah, that makes sense,” Seteth mused, rubbing his chin. “Do you happen to know who the new ruler is going to be? And what are you going to do about the border? They still may take the chance to attack.”

“No; the king and queen have kept this pretty secret,” Byleth responded, shaking her head. “And as for the border, I spared a few knights over to Goneril territory to help Hilda’s older brother, Holst, reinforce the border in case they try to pull something. And since the new heir’s coronation is in a few months, I have until then to find Claude.”

Byleth didn’t think that her words soothed Seteth’s skepticism, though, and the advisor let out a sigh and shook his head. “Alright, I see your point. But are you sure it’s safe for you to go? Should we assign some knights to help keep you safe? After all, there are still Empire supporters and remnants of Those Who Slither still out there. They may try to kill you if you’re not careful.”

“I’ll be fine, Seteth,” Byleth said. “Other than the people here at the monastery and the former students, not many people out there actually know what the new Archbishop looks like. As long as I stay hidden enough, I should be safe. And besides, I’m a mercenary first. I’ve been dealing with people trying to kill me since the first time I stepped out onto the battlefield.”

“So you’re going alone, then?” Seteth asked, and he started to pace the room. Byleth nodded.

“Yes. I might take a few of the mercenaries along with me, but having the Knights of Serios with me will make it seem more like I’m the Archbishop and not just a mercenary,” Byleth told him. And all the mercenaries I fought with are skilled in battle, probably as skilled as the knights. We’ll be safe.”

“Do you even know where to begin?”

“I’ll start with some of the villages around Grondor, and work my way out,” Byleth said. “I made a plan. Though if you do hear anything about Claude, I wouldn’t mind having a letter sent over.”

Seteth sighed, but she seemed to have convinced the advisor.

“If that is the case, then I suppose no amount of convincing or talking will convince you to stay,” Seteth said begrudgingly. “But don’t be gone too long. I’m already swamped with paperwork, and it will only be a matter of time before the people start wondering where the Archbishop is. With all that’s happened recently, I don’t want anyone to lose faith.”

 _Considering how Rhea used me in an attempt to get Sothis back, that seems a little stretched, but alright,_ Byleth thought but didn’t say. The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth, icky and gross. Questions and concerns still ran in her mind, but there were still so many left unanswered.

“Thank you, Seteth,” Byleth said, giving a bow to the man. “This means a lot.”

“Well, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t concerned about Von Reigan, either,” Seteth replied grimly. “To think that this war took two of Fodlan’s heirs… it truly is tragic.”

Byleth nodded, then tugged at her sleeve, pulled it up. All these fancy, silk outfits were one thing that Byleth wasn’t going to miss while looking for Claude. Cloth and cotton and the light armor she wore most of the time suited her much better than airy and thin silk.

“When are you leaving?” Seteth asked, and Byleth looked up from her sleeve at him, frowned.

“I was thinking tonight,” Byleth replied. “The sooner, the better. And there are fewer people at night who might ask where I’m going, aside from Aster, the gatekeeper.”

“So soon?” Seteth frowned, but didn’t say anything else. “Very well. I’ll have the stablehand prepare a horse for you. I hope you know what you’re going to do about food and shelter, though.”

“I’m a mercenary, Seteth,” Byleth reminded him. “I lived off the land for a long time. And I have the mercs with me, too. I’ll be fine. You don’t need to worry.”

“It’s my job to worry, Lady Byleth,” Seteth replied. “If that’s all, I’ll be off then.”

With that, Seteth gave a bow, and left Rhea- no, Byleth’s room. Once he did, Byleth closed the door behind him, hoped that no one else would bother her for the rest of the day. She needed some time to herself, and she still had some paperwork she wanted to get done before she left, make it easier on the advisor.

As soon as she sat down, however, she heard knocking on the door, and a moment later, Alois’ voice cut through the wall.

“Hey, Professor, are you in there?”

Byleth sighed, picked up her pen. A part of her wanted to refuse and keep quiet, but she knew that she had to answer. Besides, she would feel a little bad if she turned the guy away; his enthusiasm always brightened Byleth's day, even if she didn't realize it. So she allowed Alois to come in, pulling off one of the sheets of paper.

“So, I heard that you’re taking a little expedition tonight,” Alois said, stepping in. She was suddenly glad that Seteth had stepped out. Byleth knew that, if the advisor was here, he’d tell Alois to be more formal around her. But he wasn’t, to her relief. Alois was one of the few people who talked to her normally ever since she became the Archbishop -probably because of how close he was to her father - and it was honestly a relief.

“Yes,” Byleth said, not looking up from her desk. “I’m going to be looking for Claude. It’s been half a year since the battle at Grondor, and he still hasn’t shown up. But with any luck, he’s still alive and out there somewhere.”

“Are you sure that’s safe?” Alois asked, and a moment later, he appeared in her view, dressed in his new Captain armor. “I don’t want to sound like a Seteth, but there are still people out there who wish to kill you, such as Empire supporters and anyone who was in TWSITD.”

“It’s probably not, but I do have the mercenaries with me, I’m a skilled fighter, and I’m probably safer out there than here,” Byleth said nonchalantly. “After all, I am planning on keeping my identity hidden. And if no one knows where to look for me, they won’t be able to kill me. Since Garreg Mach is now the new capital, people will expect me to be there, though.”

“And I suppose you’re going to refuse the knights’ help, am I right?”

“Bringing the knights would make it seem like I’m important. As long as I keep my sword and hair hidden, no one should suspect that I’m the Archbishop, but instead just another mercenary with uncommon but not special hair and eyes. And I’ve already gone through this with Seteth, too.”

Alois let out a laugh. “Well, I’m not Seteth. I know that if you have your heart set on something, you’re going to go through with it.” Then he stopped laughing, sighed. “I’m just… worried. Those Who Slither are responsible for killing Jeralt, somehow. That Kronya girl who... who killed him... was a part of that group. I just… I don’t want them to get to you, either.”

“I’ll be fine, Alois,” Byleth assured, looking up at the knight. He was still as cheerful and bright as ever, but even he had worries. “I was a mercenary long before I was Archbishop. I’m better at fighting than governing.”

“I know, I know,” Alois said, waving a hand through the air. “But I just came down to wish you luck on finding Claude. I didn’t know the guy well, but he seemed like a bright young boy before the war started.”

 _Bright indeed,_ Byleth mused as Alois left the room. At first, that smile of his - as well as that darkness that seemed to lurk within Dimitri - had spurred her to choose Edelgard. Out of the three, she seemed the most… normal, to say the least. But she had still somehow found herself growing close with the head of the Golden Deer, and it quickly became apparent that he used that smile too, in a way, to charm information out of people or work his way out of a sticky situation. 

Claude had built up walls around him, but was always trying to bring down others. She was no exception; with her mysterious powers and long-lost sword, she was an enigma, unhuman. Still, it was only a matter of time before Claude started to let those walls down, and Byleth could start to see where, exactly, the bright and intuitive mind had come from. As the year went on, Byleth found herself wishing she had chosen to lead the Golden Deer instead of the Black Eagles, especially after the Jeralt's death. He was always willing to listen to her, always going out of his way to talk to her. She supposed that - at least at first - part of that was because he wanted to get to the Sword of the Creator. 

But it had seemed as if he started to talk to her because he wanted to as the year dragged on, and she was tossed from one incident to the next, slowly discovering more about herself and her father and the Church. Not because he wanted to get the sword or figure out more about why, exactly, she was so special, about why she had been gifted the power of a goddess. It had seemed like he had just - dare she say it - become friends.

Sothis’ power couldn’t take her back to allow her to change the house she chose, though, and the battle at Grondor had happened before Byleth had a chance to even talk to the schemer. Now it had been a half-year since he’d gone missing, and there was still no sign of him, for better or for worse. 

However, so long as there was even a chance that he was alive, Byleth was going to look for him, if just to make sure that at least one of the house leaders had gotten through the war. 

Plus, Byleth would be lying if she said she missed that laugh of his, that wink, that smile. It was rare when Claude gave a smile that was genuine, but whenever he did, Byleth could feel a soft fluttering in her chest. Not a heartbeat, but something that made her still feel human nonetheless.


	2. Traveling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Byleth travels around Fodlan in search of Claude, she gets a note from Seteth, with details of where he might have gone. So, with that information in hand, Byleth prepares for her trip to Fodlan's greatest rival; Almyra. Upon stopping in Goneril territory, though, she runs into some familiar faces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moving onto Chapter Two, guys! I hope you all enjoy!

**Chapter 2: Traveling**   
**Wyvern Moon, 10/24**

A month had passed when Byleth got the letter.

After leaving Garreg Mach, Byleth spent the next month searching for Claude, starting from Grondor and making her way all across Fodlan, to Enbarr, Fhirdiad, Fardalius and Gautier territories. She and the other mercenaries were preparing to set out to Alliel and Daphnel territory when she got the news from Seteth.

The letter was written on simple white paper, but it had a wax seal bearing the Crest of Serios on it, something only Church officials used. Seteth had printed out Byleth’s name on the back in his pretty but almost illegible handwriting. Byleth frowned when she got it, and hoped that it wasn’t some sort of letter calling her back to the monastery for whatever reason, and opened it.

_Archbishop_

_Since Grondor, I’ve been having people go out and look for Claude or any sightings of him, all over Fodlan. One of the soldiers talked to a traveling merchant, who claimed that someone matching his description hitched a ride on his ship while headed to Almyra from Enbarr a while back, not long after Edelgard was defeated. I’m not quite sure how reliable this source is, if that’s actually him - and if it is - where he might be. But, if you’re that determined to find him, I would start there. I doubt that I can convince you to stay here, so if you do plan on going to Almyra following this lead, I do urge extreme caution. We may be on good terms with Almyra at the moment, but Cyril said that Almyrans don’t exactly take kindly to Fodlanders._

_-Seteth_

“So, Claude’s in Almyra, huh?” Byleth mused to herself once she finished reading the letter. “Why the hell would he go there?”

“Almyra?” One of the mercenaries Byleth was with, Marissa, asked. Byleth nodded, looking up at her, then looking back down at the letter.

“If this source is reliable, then yes,” Byleth replied. Then she looked back up at Marissa and the other mercenaries who had crowded around her. “I don’t suppose anyone is willing to come to Almyra with me?”

As Byleth had expected, all the mercs shook their heads. Not unexpected, but still annoying nonetheless. Hopefully, if diplomatic negotiations with this future king went well, then this wouldn’t be a problem anymore. But for now, it looked like Byleth would have to brave Almyra alone.

“Very well,” she said with a sigh. “We’ll head back to the monastery first thing tomorrow morning. Get some rest, everyone.”

_And then I’ll head for Almyra, alone._

The group dispersed, then, many of the mercenaries heading to their tents for the night. Only Marissa lingered, watching Byleth with cat-like precision as she finished her dinner. She was part of the older mercenaries and had been part of the troop since Byleth was about ten. Tall and slender, with bright pink hair.

“Typical Byleth,” She said after a few seconds of silence, and Byleth looked her way as she tore off a chunk of her meat. “You never do give up, do you?”

“Claude’s my friend, Mari,” Byleth replied once she finished chewing. “I don’t know if that source is reliable or not, so I’m going to check it out. Even just seeing him alive might make me feel a little bit better about myself.”

“Isn’t this Seteth guy going to freak out when he finds out you went to a different and possibly hostile country all by yourself with no backup?”

“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”

“Do you even know anything about Almyra, or, at the very least, speak the language?”

Byleth frowned, looked up at Marissa. “I don’t think anybody in Fodlan aside from Cyril knows anything about Almyra, for better or for worse. But I’ll figure it out, somehow.”

“Of course you will, Demon,” Marissa said, before walking over and patting Byleth on the shoulder. “Just don’t get yourself killed over there. If an Almyran kills the Archbishop of Fodlan, that cause a huge diplomatic incident, possibly even another war. Not to mention any diplomatic negotiations would go down the drain.”

“I’m a mercenary, Marissa,” Byleth replied, resting her hand on the hilt of her sword. “Not getting killed is in my blood.”

Of course, Byleth knew that searching for Claude wouldn’t be easy. Searching for him in another country that she knew nothing about and didn’t speak the language of, though? That would be a whole other challenge. Her first thought was to go to Cyril; he might know a thing or two about Almyra, even speak some of the language.

However, when she had gone to the guy, he told her that he didn’t remember a lot of Almyran, or enough about the country to get her through. So her next best bet would be to find a translator or guide of some sort, but that was easier said than done. There weren’t many Fodlanders who spoke Almyran, and vice versa. Hell, aside from Cyril and possibly Claude, she didn’t know anyone from Almyra.

But luckily for Byleth, she did know someone who had rather frequent contact with Almyrans. So, a week after receiving the letter from Seteth, Byleth found herself leaving the monastery once more to head to Goneril territory, searching for a familiar pink-haired student of hers.

The town near Hilda’s place was rather large and bustling, people going from store to store looking for the latest outfits or weapons. As she walked, Byleth kept an eye out for Hilda, hoping that - with any luck - she would be in the town somewhere instead of at her place.

Instead, she ran into someone else familiar; Judith.

Byleth didn’t see her at first; she was too busy trying to find her way around to notice the Hero of Daphnel calling out her name. Then, she felt a hand on her shoulder, and Byleth startled and looked over her shoulder to see the brunette standing behind her.

“Oh, Judith, hello,” Byleth said, turning around to face her. The brunette smiled, crossed her arms over her chest.

“Hello to you too, professor,” She replied with a small smile, then she quirked a brow. “Or should I say Lady Byleth?”

“Uh, just professor is fine for right now,” Byleth said, glancing to the side. Since TWSITD’s base was right near Goneril territory, there was no saying which remnants of the organization might be there. If they found out she was here, they may very well try to kill her. “It’s been a long time. What are you doing here?”

“I heard that you were looking for Claude,” Judith replied. “Figured I’d come over and try to help, as thanks for helping to defeat the Empire.”

“We couldn’t have done it without your troops,” Byleth reminded her. “If you hadn’t lent us some manpower, I don’t think we could’ve gotten as far as we did as fast as we did.”

“Then shall we call it even, then?” Judith asked, smiling. Byleth nodded.

“Sure. But that’s beside the point; you said you were looking for Claude, too?”

Judith nodded, putting one hand on her hip and letting the other rest at her side as she looked around the market place. “Uh-huh. You aren’t the only one who’s been worried about him since he went missing. Figured that combining our efforts would make the search easier.”

“I’m not sure if that’s needed, but thanks,” Byleth said, looking around. Then she motioned for Judith to follow her. “I think I may have figured out where he is. Or at least where he’s gone.”

“You do?” Judith asked as they started through the marketplace. Byleth nodded, resting her hand on the hilt of her sword. It was a familiar comfort, one she used to steady herself, like a child seeking comfort from a toy.

“Yes. Apparently, Seteth said that one of the soldiers looking for Claude talked to a merchant,” Byleth started. “That merchant said that someone matching Claude’s description hitched a ride with him to Almyra not long after the Empire fell.”

“Almyra?” Judith asked, a hint of surprise to her voice.

Byleth shrugged as she squeezed by a couple walking down the street. Man, this street was crowded. “That’s what the merchant said. I don’t know if that’s credible or not, though. Not like it’s going to stop me from looking for him.”

Judith paused in her tracks, frowning. “You’re planning on going to Almyra to search for him?”

“I was thinking about it, at the very least,” Byleth said, before sighing. “I’m not sure how far I’ll get, though. I barely know anything about Almyra, much less how to speak the language, and if it was Claude on the ship, I have no idea where he would be. It… sounded better in my head.”

“You’re that determined to find him?” Judith asked, once more crossing her arms over her chest.

“Well… I couldn’t save Edelgard or Dimitri… and they were both my students, even if I didn’t teach the Blue Lions… and now Claude’s missing…” Byleth trailed off, shrugged. “I just… the war was… hard… on me. But I figured that, if I find Claude, it’ll make me feel better if at least one of the house leaders survived. I just… I feel like I owe him that much.”

Judith frowned, looked over to the mountains in the distance that made up Fodlan’s throat. It was hard to think that an entire country that Byleth knew nothing about was on the other side. But what was more curious was how Judith seemed to be debating something, like she wanted to say something to Byleth but wasn’t.

“Judith?” Byleth queried after a few seconds of silence, and Judith looked to her. “Is everything okay? You look like there’s something on your mind.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” the brunette replied, but she looked towards the mountains again, frowned once more. Byleth tilted her head, but didn’t say anything. After a few seconds, the brunette spoke.

“I don’t suppose you happen to know the Queen of Almyra, right?” Judith asked after a few seconds. Byleth frowned at the odd question - what did Judith know about the queen? - then shook her head.

“No. I was supposed to meet with them this month to re-negotiate all that diplomatic stuff, but then I heard that they’re retiring in a few weeks, and that there’s going to be a new king,” Byleth explained. “They said that it was probably better for both kingdoms if the new rulers whipped up new agreements and such.”

Judith looked to her, then, eyes wide, brief but there. Byleth frowned, wondering what that was about, but before she could say anything else, Judith spoke.

“Tell you what, professor. I have some… contacts, let’s say, in Almyra,” Judith said. “If you’re that determined to go to Almyra to find Claude, I’ll point you to her. Just… probably don’t tell her you’re the Archbishop.”

“Already a step ahead of you; I wasn’t planning on telling anyone,” Byleth said, a little surprised at Judith’s words. Not that she didn’t mind any help, though she was a little curious as to what contacts Judith had. But she supposed that if her contacts could spot Rhea getting kidnapped after the battle five years ago, then they could do anything.

“Thank you, Judith,” Byleth said, giving a bow. “The problem is, I have no idea where to begin looking for. The only thing I know about Almyra is that they ride wyverns and it’s big.”

“Eh, I’m sure you’ll find him,” Judith said. “If you can take down the Empire with little more than the Knights of Serios, then you can find one boy. Though I am curious to know if that advisor of Lady Rhea’s is okay with this.”

“He’s not, but I somehow managed to convince him,” Byleth replied. “But I am planning on leaving before he changes his mind. So you have someone you can put me in contact with?”

Judith nodded. “Uh-huh, though I’m not sure how quickly you’ll be able to see her. She’s kind of important in Almyra, and it’s just a whole thing,” Judith told her. “I’ll send her a letter tomorrow, but it might take some time to get to her.”

“That’s fine,” Byleth replied, giving a shake of her head. “Thank you, Judith.”

“Don’t mention it. Just don’t somehow get yourself killed while over there, Professor,” Judith told her, before frowning. “Do you have somewhere to stay while you’re here?”

“I was hoping I could room with Hilda until I left,” Byleth said. “If not, I know there’s an inn here that I could stay at. Me and the mercs have used it a few times before when traveling. I know the owner.”

“Ah, alright. Then I suppose there’s no reason for me to stay here much longer then, eh?” Judith replied. Byleth shrugged, frowned. She still had the sense that the Hero of Daphnel was hiding something from her, but she left before Byleth could say anything.

So, with nothing else to do, Byleth headed to Hilda’s house.

*

Hilda was excited to see her, and after some waiting and talking, Byleth found herself being led to Hilda’s room by the girl herself. She was practically pulling Byleth down the hall, talking about some new jewelry she was making. As she did, Byleth couldn’t help but look around the house. Though house probably wasn’t the right word for it; it was something of a cross between a mansion and a house.

“It’s so good to see you, Professor!” Hilda said once they got to her room, which was a lot bigger than the room she had at the monastery. “Are you coming to visit your favorite student for a cup of tea?”

“Uhh, actually, I was hoping I could stay here for a few days,” Byleth replied, her eyes darting around the girl’s room. Jewelry and items to make jewelry were scattered all over the room, along with a few stuffed animals and about a gajillion accessories, dresses, and makeup products. She also noticed with some amusement that there wasn’t a book in sight.

“Stay here?” Hilda asked as she walked over to her desk and grabbed a tea set that was on it, frowning. “Aren’t you staying at the monastery still, since you’re now the Archbishop?”

“Well, it’s a long story,” Byleth replied, before settling herself onto a chair that looked relatively clean. It was a lot softer then the chairs at the monastery, and it made her wonder if all noble houses had furniture like that. “But the short version is, I’m still looking for Claude.”

“I appreciate your concern for our Mr. Leader man, but why do you think he’s somewhere in Goneril territory?” Hilda asked, and a moment later, she walked over with a tea set. “Last I heard, he was still missing. Do you think he’s come here?”

“Actually, both Seteth and I have sent out people looking for him since Grondor. One of these people talked to a merchant that said someone matching Claude’s description went and hitched a ride on his ship from Enbarr to Almyra, not long after the Empire fell,” Byleth told her.

“You’re planning on going to Almyra?” Hilda asked, blinking, before looking around her room, then went and poured them some tea. “Don’t you have, like, duties to do as Archbishop?”

“Seteth is taking care of that for a bit,” Byleth told her, picking up her teacup and looking at her reflection in the tea. “It’s just… I couldn’t save Dimitri or Edelgard, but… I just… I want to make sure that he’s okay with my own two eyes, not some baseless claim. So, yes, I’m going to Almyra. I ran into Judith on the way here, and she said she could put me into contact with someone who can speak both Fodlan and Almyran.”

Hilda took a seat across from Byleth, brushed some invisible dirt off her skirt. “Doesn’t that seem, I don’t know, a little bit dangerous?” She asked. “Because I know that Fodlanders aren’t exactly well-liked over there. Not to mention that Almyra is a big place; about as big as Fodlan, perhaps bigger. It’s going to be hard to find one guy in a country that big.”

“I know it’s dangerous, but I’ll be fine,” Byleth said. “Just because Fodlan and Almyra don’t get along doesn’t mean I’ll be killed the moment I step foot in there. Merchants go to and from Almyra all the time.” She paused, frowned. “As for actually finding Claude, that… is going to be harder, I’ll admit. But I’ll figure it out.”

A frown crossed Hilda’s face as Byleth took a sip of her drink, but hopefully, she could get enough information from her to actually get to Almyra. Though she would be lying if she said she wasn’t worried about going there alone, and about finding Claude. It had been about four or so months since the Empire fell, and if Claude left soon after the fact, Goddess knew where he could be by now. But she wasn’t going to back down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! If you made it this far, I thank you for doing so! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, and leaving a comment or a kudos would be greatly appreciated!


	3. Almyra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth travels to Almyra, makes an unexpected friend, and uncovers a secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter three is now here! I hope you guys enjoy this one! (Also for anyone who hasn't finished Verdant Wind yet there are spoilers here so yeah)

Not long after, Byleth found herself in the capital of Almyra, being suffocated to death by people and the heat.

She knew that Almyra was big. Really big; probably as big as Fodlan, if not bigger. But it seemed like every person in the country had been jam-packed into the capital, the crowds bigger than Lorenz's ego. And it was already hot during the day, but the mass of bodies made it worse. Even after trading out her usual wardrobe for something more heat-appropriate, she still felt like she was in Alliel once more. Not even Enbarr had this much people, and the streets hadn't been crowded with people. Hell, as far as she knew, none of the cities in Fodlan contained this many people in a single city.

A vision flashed in her mind, then, of her cutting down soldiers as they pushed into the capital, and civilians dying because of the monsters Hubert had released, because of all the lives he and Edelgard sacrified in order to make one last stand, to try and find another leg to stand on. She winced, and blocked the memory out of her head. She had no time to deal with memories and visions of the past. What she needed was to find this contact of Judith’s.

But that was near impossible. People surrounded her at every step, making it impossible to tell where or even who Judith’s contact was. And if he or she had brown hair - like ninety-five percent of the people there - she wouldn't find them. She had a picture of the contact sketched out, but it would do her little good amongst this flood. The fact that she didn’t speak Almyran didn’t help; she couldn’t ask anybody where this contact was. Then again, she figured that if she could speak Almyran in the first place, she wouldn't even need to find this contact of Judith's, that she'd be able to get along fine by herself. 

Even without being able to speak the language, though, Byleth could tell the city and its inhabitants were on edge. A vast majority of people kept taking second-glances at her; pale as the moon and with green hair, she stuck out like a sore thumb, even with a hood on. A lot more people looked at her with suspicion, but she had the feeling that that suspicion was coming from somewhere else. Something had happened here, and whatever it was, it was enough to make people wary. More than once did Byleth see what looked to be soldier-type guys marching around the city and questioning people. It appeared that none of them had noticed her yet, and she had the feeling she wanted to keep it that way. Especially considering she was the Archbishop of Almyra's greatest rival, not that she would tell them that.

So Byleth kept her hood up and head down, trying and failing to discern conversations between the citizens. Without knowing the language, it would be impossible to try and figure out even scraps of the conversation. Eventually, she gave up, and hoped that she could get along well enough with just pictures and gestures until she found this contact. That is, if people would be willing to actually talk to her. So far, any person Byleth tried to approach had always viewed her with a mixture of suspicion and contempt. Soon, though, night began to fall, and the streets slowly began to clear of people. Byleth wanted to find somewhere to stay, but she had no idea where to look, or how to ask for a room for a night.

_Looks like I’ll be sleeping under the stars tonight,_ Byleth thought to herself. For a few minutes, she walked around, ducking into an alleyway near the main street, hoping it would lead less people to her. Soon, she retired herself into a small corner between two buildings that looked relatively quiet, empty, abandoned. As per usual, she had a pair of heavier clothes for the apparently chillier nights here, and a small sleeping bag and blanket to go with. First rule of mercenary work: always carry an extra set of clothes, a knife, food, and a sleeping bag. 

Changing into her normal outfit and hoping anyone wouldn’t see, Byelth sat down on the cold, cobblestone streets, pressing her back to the corner of two walls, feeling the cold from the ground seeping up through her pants and shirt. It was cold, but she would be less likely to be attacked by bandits if she stayed hidden in the dark corner of the alleyway. She also drew out her silver sword, rested it on the ground next to her as she laid out her sleeping bag, before crawling into it. It wasn't quite that warm, but it could provide some shelter from the cold. 

Almyra may be a country with some beautiful architecture and equally beautifully-designed swords, but it appeared that the temperature never stayed stagnant. During the day, it was as hot as Alliel, but during the night, it was as cold as Faerghus was in the wintertime. Byleth had made the right choice, bringing her heavier outfits. For a few minutes, she laid there, one hand on her sword, before finally dozing off. As she did, though, she heard shouting nearby. It was soft and silent at first, making Byleth wonder if it was even real, hard to tell in her dazed state. Then, she heard foosteps coming down the alleyway, loud and fast, and she peeled open one eye to see a group of people turning the alleyway in front of her, shouting in Almyran. 

Something about that spoke fowl to her, and Byleth snapped herself awake, shaking her head and the feeling back into her limbs. Then she unzipped her sleeping back, untangled herself from it, and stood up, grabbing her sword. She looked in the direction the men had gone, looking for - _there._ Just down the alleyway, a small group of bandits had appeared to corner a young boy against the wall, barely visible in the light torchlight that came from a nearby lamp. He was saying something Almyran - she had to guess help, stop or leave me alone - and Byleth narrowed her eyes.

Tightening the grip on her sword, Byleth walked over to them, pressing the blade of her sword against the neck of one of the bandits. He froze up, and a moment later, a group of four or so pairs of eyes turned to look at her. Apparently, they didn't want any interruptions. One of them lashed out at her immediately, stabbing out at Byleth. She blocked the attack easily, before grabbing the man's arm and twisting. He let out a cry, and Byleth gave it another yank, breaking the bone. 

Taking advantage of that, she pressed the sword to his neck, glancing around at the other bandits. They all exchanged glances, and she quirked a brow, hoping the gesture was enough to get them to back off. Most of the bandits she had fought as a mercenary had been rather weak-willed, giving up at the first sign of trouble. Apparently, it wasn't that much different here. They glanced at the boy, who still had his back pressed to the wall, before looking to one another and speaking in Almyran. Byleth narrowed her eyes, kicking the man in the shins. After a moment of debate, they decided that the kid wasn't worth it, and ran off. Byleth let the man go, and he scrambled to his feet, sword clanging to the ground, and followed suit. 

But apparently, she didn’t need that, for a moment later, the boy spoke.

“You… you saved me,” He said in almost near-perfect Fodlanese. Byleth blinked in surprise - how did this kid know Fodlanese? - and nodded.

“Yeah… are you alright?”

The boy nodded. “I think so, miss. If you hadn’t come along, I think it could’ve been a lot worse, though. They were after my money, despite the fact I don’t have anything on me.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re safe,” Byleth replied, before frowning. “But… how do you know Fodlandian? And how did you knew that I’m from Fodlan?” The second question was probably a stupid one, but it had already left Byleth’s mouth before she could think better of it.

“You have pale skin; not a lot of people born in Almyra do,” the boy said, pointing at her face. “And as for how I know Fodlandian, my dad was born in Fodlan,but my mom is Almyran. I grew up speaking both Fodlandese and Almyran.”

Byleth nodded, looking around. “That explains it,” She mused, mostly to herself. “Well, I’m glad you’re alright. But I should get back to bed, now. It’s late; you should be getting home too.”

“Hey, hang on!” The boy said as Byleth turned to leave. She paused in her tracks, looked over her shoulder. “You saved me; it’s only right that I do something in return. That’s what my dad always taught me.”

“Something in return?” Byleth asked, before shaking her. “No, it’s no big-”

She paused, then, and frowned, an idea sparking in her head. If this kid and his dad knew Fodlandese and Almyran, then she could actually talk with someone here, without having to find this contact of Judith’s. So, acting on that, Byelth revised her previous statement.

“Actually… if you’re that intent to return the favor… could I go and talk to your parents?” Byleth asked the kid, before tightening her ponytail. “You see, I don’t know any Almyran, and I need a place to stay. Plus, I’m looking for someone, too, but I don’t know who I could ask. I-if you’re alright with that, of course.”

The kid shrugged. “I’m fine with it, but my pa’s a different story, though. I’m sure he’ll be a little lenient, since you’re from Fodlan and you helped me out, though.”

Turning to the kid, Byleth gave a bow. “Thank you,” she said, before frowning. “Uhh, what is your name? I’m Byleth.”

“I’m Payam,” the kid replied, a bright smile appearing on his face. “Nice to meet you, miss Byleth. Here, I’ll show you to my parents' house.”

“Um, let me get my stuff first,” Byleth replied, glancing over her shoulder at the sleeping bag she still had out. “I’ll be right back.”

Byleth jogged over to the corner she’d holed herself up in and grabbed her stuff, rolling up the sleeping bag and clipping it to the small backpack she had. Once that happened, she went and cleaned up the rest of her small bit of stuff, then turned and headed back towards Payam, her shoes clicking on the ground beneath her. 

“Ready?” Payam asked, tilting his head. Byleth nodded, and with that, Payam led her through the alleyways and some small roads on their way to his house. Despite the dark, the torchlight helped to see her surroundings, which gave her some comfort. She always liked having light with her, in case she got attacked. But the style of the buildings in Almyra, the architecture... it wasn't like anything she'd ever seen in Fodlan. Fodlalnd architecture was more... bland, aside from the noble houses. It was built for history and defense, not style. Eventually, Payam led her to a small bakery. He knocked on the door, and a few seconds later, it opened up to reveal a rather tall woman with dark hair and soft brown eyes. The smell of baked bread wafted out from inside the shop, sharp and comforting, like home. Byleth realized it had been a while since she last ate, and her stomach growled, as if to confirm that fact.

The woman - who Byleth assumed was the mother - let out a startled cry, and she and Payam began a conversation in Almyran. Then, Payam gestured to Byleth, and spoke in Fodlandese.

“This is Byleth; she just helped to scare off the bandits, mum,” he said. Byleth gave what she hoped was a reassuring and non-threatening smile and waved.

“You helped scare off bandits?” The mom said in semi-broken Fodlandian, tilting her head, staring at her with wide eyes. Byleth nodded in response.

“Yes; I’m used to doing stuff like that,” She said, before bowing. “Pleased to meet you, Mrs…”

“Ziba,” She replied. “Thank you for helping Payam.”

“It was no problem,” Byleth said, wringing her hands together. “Umm, this is a little awkward, but Payam said since I helped him, he would do me a favor in return. So I was wondering if you have a spare bed I could stay at for a few days. I don’t know any Almyran, and I don’t know how to ask for a room at an inn. I was supposed to meet up with someone here, but I haven’t found them yet. It seems like, at this rate, I'll never find them... I didn't expect the capital to be this crowded.”

Ziba nodded, then looked to Payam. “I’m alright with it, but see what father thinks. Even if you did help Payam and Fodlander, you are still stranger.”

Payam nodded, and squeezed past his mom into the bakery, and Ziba watched him go, before turning around.

“You are from Fodlan, yes?” She asked, tilting her head. Byleth nodded. “What brings you to Almyra? A trader? Mercenary? Just traveling?”

“Actually, I’m looking for someone,” Byleth said, closing her eyes, and Claude's face flashed in her face. “He was involved in a big battle in Fodlan a while back, and went missing after it ended. I've been looking for him since then. My sources say he came here, but I don’t know where to begin looking for him.”

“Al Nasra is big city, with lots of people,” Ziba said with a nod, and she folded her hands together. “It’s hard to find a single person here, amongst all the crowds and people here. But I can try. What does he look like?”

“About six feet, brown hair - which probably doesn’t help - a small beard on his chin. He used to have a single braided strand of his hair, too, though I'm not sure if he still has it or not... after all, it's been a while since I've last seen him… oh, and striking green eyes, too,” Byleth said, going off Lorenz’s description of the last time the noble had seen Claude. It appeared that he had changed too, just like the rest of the students, in the past five years, and Byleth wished that she had gotten to see him at least once before he disappeared, to see if he was doing okay. After all, the letter hadn't said much, and she knew that he had been struggling with keeping the Alliance from ripping apart at the seams during the war, while she slept. “His name is Claude von Reigan, but I’m not sure if that will help.”

Ziba’s eyes went wide, then, a small gasp escaping her lips. Byleth frowned as she looked around, remembering how tense the city seemed to be earlier that day. Did this had something to do with that? She resisted the urge to reach for her sword and startle the woman even further.

“Claude… von Reigan?” She asked, and Byleth nodded.

“Yes. Do you know him?”

Ziba opened her mouth to reply, but then the door opened up, and Byelth found herself looking at a man built like a tree but with pale skin and blonde hair. Byleth looked up at the man, whom she assumed to be Payam’s dad.

“You’re the kid who saved my son from the bandits?” He asked, and Byleth nodded. A chill wind swept through the air, then, and she shivered, pulled her cloak closer to her. She hadn't felt this cold since the last time she visited Faerghus, a while back. The man nodded, crossed his arms over his chest. “I thank you, then. For the past three days, bandits have been running wild, but the soldiers are too preoccupied to deal with them.”

“I see,” Byleth mused, wondering what he meant by that, and if it had anything to do the soldiers question people she saw earlier. It seemed like Al Nasra wasn’t exactly stable at this moment, not that she had any right to complain. Fodlan was in a similar but different position, which is why she wanted to get this done quick. “But I was wondering if I could stay here for a few days, Mr…”

“Anton.”

“Anton. I don’t know any Almyran, and I was supposed to meet someone who could help, but I can’t find them. This city is really big.”

“Sure thing,” Anton said, nodding shortly. “From one Fodlander to another.”

“Thank you,” Byleth replied, bowing once more. “I won’t be much trouble, I promise. Do you want me to pay you, or-?”

“Don’t worry about the money,” Anton said, wrapping an arm around Ziba. “You’re okay with this, right dear?”

“I’m fine with it,” Ziba replied, before looking at Byleth. “Come in, dear. You’ll get cold staying outside too long. I can take you to your room.”

Ziba and Anton stepped inside, and Byleth followed, looked inside the bakery. It was very simple, with an oven in one corner, and some chairs and tables scattered about. There was a hallway off to the side which Byleth assumed led to the bedrooms and other rooms, unless there was an upstairs room, too. 

“This way, dear,” Ziba said, and she led Byleth down the hallway, stopping outside a small door. She opened it up to reveal a small, dark room with a single bed, chair, and dresser. It looked dusty, like it hadn't been used in some time. But at least seemed to be protected from both the cold and the heat, which was a lot better than what she had a half-hour ago. 

“Thank you,” Byleth replied, stepping in. She walked over to the bed and took off her backpack, her shoulders sighing in relief when the weight was off her. Taking a seat, Byleth let her hair down, then pulled it up once more.

“So, you said you were looking for this man… Claude von Reigan? The Prince?” Ziba asked, closing the door behind her. Byleth nodded.

“Yes. Do you know him, or…” Byleth paused and frowned as the last words hit her. “Wait… did you say prince?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I hope you guys enjoyed this! Some original characters have been introduced, and Claude's secret comes out!


	4. Kidnapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ziba tells Byleth of the current situation in Almyra

Ziba let out a sigh as she walked over to the chair and took a seat, nodding. It creaked under her weight, despite her small frame. 

“Yes. Claude von Reigan is the Prince of Almyra,” she told her, and Byleth’s eyes widened.

 _Prince?_ She asked herself. Byleth had spent enough time with Claude to discern that he could possibly be Almyran, or that he at least lived there for some time. He always talked about being an outsider from outside of Fodlan, of breaking down Fodlan’s throat and making a world where everyone could accept him. About him riding a wyvern was like a rite of passage in his country, and it seemed like practically everyone in Almyra rode wyverns. Plus, she had heard Cyril mention a few times that he heard Claude speaking to himself in Almyran when upset or angry.

But Claude being a prince? That was the last thing she expected. He barely acted like a noble, much less a prince, though he was a pretty good dancer. A memory flashed in her mind, then of Claude walking up to her during the ball, taking her hand, and dragging her out onto the dance floor. Thus ensuring a long line of people who wanted to dance with her, and she was traded from partner to partner for what seemed like hours. Then, she shook that thought away. That was a long time ago, in a simpler, peaceful, easier time. No matter how much she could try, Byelth doubted that she would be able to go back to those days. After all, it was hard rewinding time back more than two minutes, nevermind two years. Still, he would have a lot to explain once she found him. 

“So… does that mean Claude’s here, then?” Byleth asked, trying to push past her surprise at the whole prince thing. Ziba pushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear, looked to the side, and shrugged.

“A few days ago, yes," She told Byleth. "Apparently, the rumor has it that current king was planning on passing the crown to him in few weeks.

 _So that’s who the new heir of Almyra is,_ Byleth thought to herself, and she could almost hear Sothis screeching at that, and could imagine Lorenz’s surprise at that. Boy, would the noble be in for a shock when he realized that Claude was the king of a different country. It was fun to think about. Still, if he was truly the prince, it would make diplomatic relations with Almyra that much easier. Who better to improve the relationship of two rivaling countries than old friends? But either way, he was alive. If this was true, he hadn’t died at Grondor. Something about that first phrase, though, bugged her. _A few days ago, he was._ Did he leave? And if so, where?

“What do you mean, he was?” Byleth voiced, still hung up on that first part. Ziba glanced away, then looked up at Byleth.

“Apparently, the prince was kidnapped three days ago.”

Byleth froze, something sparking in her chest, like an arrow or a lance had impaled it. It was the same sort of feeling she felt the first time she got the note after Grondor, when it said that Edelgard was injured, Dimitri dead, and Claude was missing. She couldn't belive her ears, though. _Kidnapped? Claude had been kidnapped?_ No, she couldn't believe that. Claude was smart, crafty, resourceful. A planner, a thinker, a schemer. Surely he wouldn't let himself get captured so... so easily. Especially considering how he still had that dream to tend to as well. Still, based on what she had seen of the city... 

“Who kidnapped him?” She asked, narrowing her eyes, that spark turning violent, and she fought to regain control of her voice before she scared Ziba away. It took everything in Byleth to not move her hand towards the hilt of her sword. “Why? Do they know where he’s at? Is this why the city seems to be on edge, and why I keep seeing soldier-type people walking about and questioning people?”

“No one knows, no, also no, yes, and yes,” Ziba answered carefully, shaking her head. “But it not hard to image who might want to kidnap the prince. His father, the king, may be Almyran, but the queen from Fodlan. Ever since he was born, a lot of people showed hatred to poor boy, even members of his own family. More than once had their been reports of him getting into scraps with people from the castle in the back alleyways of Al Nasra, and by the time he was ten, he survived over fifteen assassination attempts, apparently.”

Byleth’s memory flashed back to when she first met the guy, and her first impression of him. _He has a striking smile, but it doesn’t seem to reach his eyes._ She also recalled some of her conversations with him, too, about how he didn’t trust people. About how people never liked him because of where his mom was from. Her heart ached, then, and she cast her gaze downward. The dream that he had talked about suddenly made a lot more sense; a few people not liking him was one thing. But an entire country, just because his mom was from a different place? That had to have been a lot different. It was no surprise that he had built these walls up, kept people out, while always trying to wring secrets and bits of information from other people.

Ziba started speaking, then, snapping Byleth out of her train of thought.

“But how do you know the prince? Not a lot of people are allowed in palace, especially people from Fodlan.”

“He was a student at the Officer's Academy at Garreg Mach in Fodlan for a year, about five and a half years ago,” Byleth told her. Although her memory wasn't the best, she could still remember when she first saw him and the other house leaders, when she rescued them from the bandits. If she could go back, however, she would let Kostas kill Edelgard. Maybe, if she had, then this whole damn war wouldn't have been started in the first place. “I actually saved him and two other house leaders from bandits, and then got a teaching position there. I didn’t teach the class he was a part off, but we still became - dare I say - friends.”

“I knew he left Almyra for a brief spell,” Ziba mused. “So that’s where you met him. And now you look for him.”

Byleth nodded. “Uh-huh." Then she frowned. "Not that long ago, Fodlan was in the midst of a civil war, and he was a part of it. He was at this huge battle between the three sides, and he went missing after the battle. I’ve been looking for him since, though I only managed to get any leads just a few weeks ago.”

“That’s very noble.”

“It’s the least I can do as his professor,” Byleth said, closing her eyes and feeling heat creeping up her neck. As his friend, some part of her said, though the words were left unspoken. She thought of herself as his friend, but she didn't know if Claude had felt the same. If, when she found him, Claude would ever feel the same. “But I should get some sleep. Thank you for this, Mrs. Ziba.”

“It’s no problem,” Ziba replied, standing up. “And good luck on finding Claude.”

Byleth gave a weak smile, and once Ziba left, she pushed her backpack off the bed and laid down. The beds left something to be desired, but at least the covers were thick, providing more inuslation from the cold. They also smelled a little like... sawdust, if Byleth had to guess. So, suddenly feeling very tired, Byleth snuggled under them, her mind running with thoughts.

***

She tried her best to sleep, but Byleth’s sleep was fraught with nightmares and dreams of the past. It wasn’t the first time she had nightmares about the war, but they never grew easier.

Eventually, as morning came, Byleth had gotten little sleep. Some nights were better than others; tonight was not a good one. She had dreamt an alternate version of the war, in which Edelgard killed her, not the other way around. Another dream had been that she emerged from her slumber, and the Empire had already won, that both the Alliance and Kingdom were demolished. Among other things. So, as the morning sun peaked out over the skyline, Byleth went and left the bakery, leaving behind anything she wouldn’t miss if it got stolen. A few people were out, not enough to crowd the streets, but the streets this way were narrow enough that she still had to squeeze past them.

One part of Byleth wanted to stay near the bakery, so that way she didn’t get lost; Al Nasra was a big city, that was for sure, and without knowing the streets or how to ask for directions, it would be easy for her to get lost. But she also wanted to go back out to the main street that led from the entrance of the city to the Palace. She was far more likely to see this contact there than in untraveled alleyways. Frowning, Byleth reached into her pocket and took out the note Judith had given her. It was crumpled from being folded up for so long, but still readable. Though Judith’s handwriting wasn’t much better than hers, if she was honest.

She read through it once more, hoping to find something that could tell her where to find this contact of Judith’s. But the letter held zip. It was more of a letter from Judith to this contact, telling them a bit about who Byleth was, how she knew Claude, and why she was looking for him. With a sigh, Byleth folded up the letter once more, pulling her hood a bit further down her head. It would be a while yet before she started to melt in the heat, so she could keep her hood on from now. If rumors started to spread about a Fodlander being in the capital three days after Claude’s kidnapping, it would not bode well for her.

Hell, it would probably be better if she switched her sleep schedule entirely, being up at night and sleeping during the day. Though if she did that, the chances of finding this contact of Judith's would drop, unless they were a night owl as well. Suddenly, just asking about Claude didn’t seem like a good idea either, not that she could actually ask anyone. A part of Byleth, then, told her to go around the palace, see if she could figure anything out about the kidnapping. But between not speaking Almyran and being a Fodlander sneaking around the palace, that would not bode well for her either. Right now, it seemed like all she could do was wait, at least until she found this contact of Judith’s.

But that was easier said than done. More often than not, she was always doing something, anything to keep her hands and mind busy. Since coming to the monastery, she had started to feel emotions like a regular human being, to some extent. It was… odd, but nice. Even if she was the reincarnation of the Goddess, it made her feel less like an icon or idol or vessel and more like… well, an actual human. Every now and then, though, sometimes dealing with emotions became too much, like after dad had died. She had seen people in her mercenary troop die before, and she had taken a lot of lives while working as a mercenary. But that was the first time she ever felt sad at someone dying, and it was shattering. Still, almost six years since then, Byleth could still feel that hole that had been torn open in her chest after his death.

So whenever that happened, and those emotions spiraled out of her comfort zone, Byleth had often found herself wanting to do something. Train, cook, fish, garden, work… anything to keep herself busy. And with Claude kidnapped and still missing, possibly injured or even dead-

Byleth realized what she was thinking, then, and she shook that thought out of her head. Edelgard and Dimitri were already dead, and it was her fault; she couldn’t imagine Claude dying, too. She couldn’t let that happen, not after she had gotten Dimitri and Edelgard killed.

Suddenly hyper-aware of the weight of the Sword of the Creator on her back, still wrapped up in the cloth from a month ago, Byleth ducked into a small crook between two alleyways. She took a seat on the ground and turned her back to the bigger alleyway, unsheathing the sword and setting it in front of her. She needed that off her back for a bit, away from the weight and pulsing of it, from the power that surged at her fingertips whenever she touched the handle. The ivory-colored bone and the teeth stared up at her, silent, unspeaking. It was... unsettling. If Rhea had been right, then... then this was Sothis' spine. Her spine. What would she say to that, even? About Byleth using the sword to kill her own student?

For a few moments, Byleth just sat there with her eyes closed, trying to rid her mind of memories from the war, of Edelgard laying dead in front of her, of Dimitri’s body being lowered into the grave they’d made for him at the monastery. Tried to clear her mind of all the bad memories, focusing on the good ones. Having tea with Annette and Bernadetta and Lindhart. Training with Felix and Sylvain as the latter chucked flirty insult after compliment at the former. Fishing with Alois and Seteth and Flayn. Cooking with Ashe and Dedue before he went missing after the war ended.

Finally, Byleth’s mind quieted and calmed down, and with a shaky sigh, she picked up the sword, wincing at the rush of power she felt go through her fingertips. When she had first picked it up, it felt… normal, familiar, somehow. Now it just felt dark and dangerous and deadly, like it was a curse. In a sense, it was. Quickly, Byleth stood up, sheathed the sword once more, and turned around. Deciding that she should head back to the bakery, Byleth made her way back there, trying to remember all the turns and twists she took on her way here. She needed to find this contact of Judith’s, and soon, before she got Claude killed, too.

She recalled, then, of seeing Dimitri all those months ago, after Grondor. At first, she thought that he had somehow escaped, that the report had been wrong. But then Seteth had showed up, and it had turned out to be a dream. But still, Byleth wondered if that was actually the case, or if Dimitri’s soul somehow visited her before it departed from the world. A half-year later, and she still didn’t know.

By the time she reached the bakery, it was starting to warm up, the sun beating down on the city, turning it into an Almyran version of Alliel. Once she stepped inside did Byleth take off her coat, quickly heading back to her room, the cooler air greeting her with open arms. Maybe she could get some sleep, now, if she was lucky. She stepped inside her room, and quickly checked her stuff to make sure that anything hadn’t been stolen. As she did, she felt her fingers wrap around a small, leather-bound book, and she frowned, pulled it out. Instantly, she recognized it as her Dad’s diary, and she wondered when she put it in there.

At that point in time, Byleth had practically memorized every single line of every single page; she could recite it from heart. She thought it had been at the monastery, in her room, hidden under the pillows. Not hiding in her bag. When did she put it in there? Or had it just fallen in when she was packing for her trip? Byleth frowned as she stared at it for a moment, reciting some of the passages in her head, then sighed and set it back in her bag. Before she could lay down to get some sleep, though, she heard knocking on the door.

“Miss Byleth?” She heard the kid, Payam, asking. “Are you awake?”

Standing up, Byleth walked over to the door and opened it up, just a crack. Payam was standing there, looking up at her with wide, curious eyes.

“Payam?” She asked. “Is everything okay?”

“Uh-huh,” the kid replied, nodding. “I was just about to head to the marketplace with my pa, and I was wondering if you want to join us. That way, you don’t get lost looking for this friend of yours.”

For a moment, Byleth stood there, debating whether she should try to get some sleep or not. Sleep was something she got little of during the war, and was paying for it now. The nightmares didn't help, either. But after a few seconds, she nodded, still not feeling completely at ease with the fact that Claude was kidnapped. The sooner she could find this contact, the sooner she could find Claude and make sure he was okay.

“Sure,” Byleth said, double-checking in her head to make sure she didn’t need anything from her bag. Once she was sure she didn’t, she opened up the door. “Lead the way, Payam.”


	5. The Captive, the Searcher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Claude laments on his current situation, Byleth continues her search for him in the center of Al Nasra.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy this little chapter which is (mostly) in Claude's pov! (I headcanon that he has a very dysfunctional family don't @ me)

**Red Wolf Moon, 11/14**

**Claude**

Out of all the things Claude expected to happen when he came back to Almyra, being kidnapped a few weeks before his coronation wasn’t one of them.

When he came back after the war and made a push against his parents to get the crown and finally start towards his dream, he had expected pushback from his dad. He had been correct about that; the old man claimed he was still young enough to lead, but Claude could see the wear and tear on his face, in his movements. But somehow, he managed to convince him, probably because of the fact he managed to hold the Alliance together for the five years Byleth had been missing. Which was more than the Kingdom could say.

He had expected the disdain from most of the rest of his family, mainly his cousins. Claude got that, too, not missing the side-eye glances and muttering amongst themselves once he got back. They had never liked him, being a mixed-race child who was to be the new king. But what he hadn’t expected was his oldest cousin, Seyed, actually kidnapping him.

Claude was angry at himself about the fact he didn’t realize it until it was too late. By the time he had, whatever drug or poison Seyed slipped into his drink or food had already taken effect, leaving him stumbling and swaying as he tried to stay on his feet, head spinning. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who dabbled in poisons; whatever Seyed slipped him was something Claude hadn’t seen before. Otherwise, he probably would’ve recognized it; it wasn’t the first time someone had tried to kill him via poison. And if he could get out of here, it probably wouldn't be the last, either.

Three days had passed since then, and so far, no one had come for him, for better or for worse. Normally, he would’ve thought that he would’ve escaped by then, but Seyed wasn’t taking any chances of letting him go. While Claude had been trying to figure out the secrets Teach was hiding and not dying in a war, Seyed had been preparing for something like this. And it didn’t take a genius to reason that if Seyed was after him, he may very well be after his parents, too. After the throne.

With a frustrated grunt, Claude tried once more to use the prongs of his fork to cut off the ropes binding his hands together. But Seyed had tied them far enough up his arms and the prongs were too dull to be of any use. So, after the fork slipped out of his hands once again, Claude let out a sigh and decided to give up for now. If he was right, Seyed or one of the guards would be back soon, and he didn’t want to be caught trying to get out of his binds.

Grabbing the fork once more, Claude turned around and set it next to the small, dinky plate of food his cousin had given him, turning around just in time to hear the door open. He narrowed his eyes as his cousin came into view, a smirk on his face and a wicked gleam in his eyes. It reminded Claude a little bit of Hubert's face, though Hubert's was more... unsettling. Seyed just had the victory smirk people always said that Claude himself had.

“I hope the food wasn’t too good today,” his cousin said, voice dripping with venom as he walked over to Claude with a swagger in his step. Then he glanced down at his plate, and it took every bit of control in Claude’s body to not smirk as Seyed narrowed his eyes. As disgusting as the food was, it was still food, and he would need that energy to stay healthy and, maybe, get out of here. If he could just get the damn ropes off his wrists.

But he kept silent, partly out of discontempt, partly out of anger. A moment later, Seyed kneeled down next to Claude, matching his own dark brown eyes to his green ones.

“Still as stubborn as ever, Claude,” His cousin mused, before languidly pulling a small knife out of its sheath. Claude’s eyes darted to the blade - standard Almyran hunting knife, with intricate designs on both the handle and blade - then looked up to his cousin. He felt his heart skip a beat, but he refused to let himself be scared, not in front of someone like his cousin. Not after literally staring death in the face and coming back singing more times than he could count. “You already know what I want.”

“No.”

That was the only thing Claude said, hoping it wasn’t enough words to betray the thrumming in his chest. Seyed’s eyes gleamed viciously, and he was briefly reminded of the look Teach had in the month after Captain Jeralt died. A predator, hunting for their prey. And Claude was a sitting duck where he was.

“I’m going to sit on that throne with the crown on my head, one way or another,” Seyed said, drawing the knife a little too close to Claude’s neck for his comfort. He just narrowed his eyes in response, tried to keep that guarded expression of his up, kept silent. A moment later, Seyed stood up, twirling the knife between his fingers, the blade gleaming in the torchlight. Claude tried not to think about how it looked so similar to what he’d seen Teach do with her own dagger, the few times he had seen it out of its sheath; he couldn’t afford any distractions. Still, just the thought of Byleth made his heart ache a little bit, and he wished that the former mercenary was there to show Seyed a thing or two.

“It will only be a matter of time before your parents come and find me: find you. And when they do, I’ll be ready for them,” Seyed commented.

“Will they?” Claude asked, unable to keep a hollow note of bitterness out of his voice. He wasn’t quite sure if he was asking Seyed or himself. He had never quite gotten along with his parents, and although that bond had slowly been strengthening since he came back from Fodlan, it still wasn’t perfect. It was far from it, he admitted bitterly. Especially considering how close Teach had been to her father before that cowardy, back-stabbing traitor Monica had killed him.

Seyed paused in his action and glanced down at Claude, then looked back to the knife. After a second, he continued to spin it. “They may be a little... rough around the edges, but I figure that, deep down somewhere, they care for you,” Seyed told him, and Claude wanted to laugh at that. Rough around the edges was certainly not the term he’d used to describe either of his parents. But he held his tounge, not wanting to make Seyed angry. That was the last thing he needed right now. “They’ll come. And when they do, I’ll be there to end their lives - and with it, yours. Then I’ll take what’s rightfully mine.”

Like before, Claude kept silent, trying to quiet the roaring in his ears. He didn’t doubt that, no matter how bad his relationship with his parents was, they would come looking for him, sooner or later. And, like most Almyrans, he would probably stick to a true and blue head-on attack with wyverns and axes and bows. It didn’t take a genius to counter that strategy, either. When being shoved over here, Claude had gotten a glimpse at the roof. Mages and archers - hired hands from Gods knew where, probably - were all lined up there. If he was right, and his dad would go with the typical brute strength route with wyverns, he bet that a small group of archers and mages with impeccable accuracy could take out most of the front line before they even got close. Not to mention whatever other soldiers might be hiding in this place.

He only had two hopes to counter that; A, he managed to get out of here and get back to the palace, or at least warn someone about Seyed’s strategy. That, however, was highly unlikely, with all the security Seyed had placed on him. The other hope was that his mother, Fodlan born and raised, would use some of that outsider knowledge of hers, recognize that Seyed could be planning something like this. After all, most Almyrans would opt for brute strength rather than clever strategies, his father included. Hopefully, his mother would be smart enough to see the flaws with that strategy. But that was a small chance, too. His mother had cast away most of her old lifestyle after coming to Almyra, and there was a chance that she wouldn’t be able to see through that faulty, bullheaded strategy.

By then, Seyed had left, leaving Claude alone in whatever place he was in once more. It was only then did Claude allow himself to let out a shaky sigh, thousands of thoughts and possibilities coming to his mind.

Ever since Seyed was a kid, he wanted what Claude had; the title of prince. Not that it mattered much, the way his parents and most of Almyra were. He also knew that he had never liked him because he was a mixed-race baby, often claiming him as ‘unfit to be the heir’, in nice terms, while they were growing up. And, like most Almyrans, he thought that people from Fodlan were weak, at least compared to the Almyrans. If someone like Seyed were to sit on the throne, it would bare disastrous consequences, for Almyra and probably for Fodlan, too.

But what could he do? He was trapped here, stuck, with no one to talk to. His parents were - if they could even find him - walking right into a death trap. It was… it was scary, almost, if Claude was being honest with himself. If Seyed’s plan worked, and both him and his parents got killed, it could have disastrous consequences for a lot of people. How many people would die because he let someone like him wear the crown?

The last time he had felt like this was after watching Teach falling off a cliff during the invasion five and a half years ago. The Empire had just won the battle, and as he was retreating, he saw some pale-skinned man knock Teach off a cliff. Teach had described a man that looked eerily similar to him after Jeralt died, the one who stopped her from saving him in the first place. And even though she hadn’t led his house, he had still somehow grown close with her, opening up to her and, bit by bit, telling her more about himself, his dreams, likes and dislikes, stuff he deemed to personal to share with... well, with a lot of other people.

And then, just like that, she disappeared, falling off the face of the earth - literally. The one person he could trust, and she was gone. He had spent the next five years just trying to keep the Alliance together, until he received news that, against all odds, she was alive, and it didn’t take long before she struck down the Empire with the knights. By then, though, he had ran off to Almyra, leaving her back in Fodlan as he went to pursue his dream.

But now, this time, she wouldn’t be coming to his aide. She was still all the way in Fodlan, and, if what he heard was any consolation, apparently the new Archbishop, or at least someone else was. Meaning that something had happened to Rhea, for better or for worse. Did she still even think about him? Or was he just another person passing her by, there and then gone again? There were still so many questions he had for her, and a lot of things he wanted to say, too.

He had hoped that, once he became king and he broke down Fodlan’s Throat, he could get the chance to reconnect, if she was in fact the Archbishop. He remembered his parents getting a letter from what looked suspiciously like Seteth, if the handwriting was any consolation. It talked about Fodlan’s throat and making sure that both sides stuck to the tentative peace treaty they had, going over that once more now that there was a new Archbishop and Fodlan was reunited.

But if Seyed became the new king, then that would be for naught. Almyra had always been looking to gain more power and land from other places, especially from Fodlan. Claude wouldn’t be surprised if Seyed launched an attack on the Throat and declared war. With Fodlan probably doing a lot of rebuilding, it would be a chance opportunity to attack. A lot of people had died in the war so there weren’t that many soldiers, and there was a new Archbishop. Between that and reconstruction efforts, Fodlan was in no shape to start another war. Even Seyed, as much as he didn’t deal with Fodlan, could see that.

Letting out a sigh, Claude shook his head, tried to clear his mind of all those negative thoughts. He couldn’t dwell on it right now, not when he had a chance to escape. For as long as his parents didn’t come barging down the door looking for him, he would have until then to get out.

*** * ***

**Byleth**

This desert heat was going to be the death of her.

She had only been outside for about twenty minutes, and she already felt like her skin was going to melt off. How did people even live here, with all this sand and clay and sun? She felt like she was being baked alive, like she was back inside Aliell, and suddenly she wished for the cold winters Faerghus had. At least with could, you could bundle up more and more until you either cut off your blood flow or got warm enough. With heat, though, that was a lot harder to combat. Even with one of her new silk and thinly-veiled outfits, Byleth was still baking.

Payam seemed to be faring much better as they walked through the marketplace, though Anton looked like he still hadn’t adjusted to the heat. It was busy, which seemed to be common, here. People crowded around them, buying and selling and trading with what seemed like everyone in the world. From the looks of some of the goods, at least some of the stuff certainly seemed to be from outside both countries. Weapons with patterns and designs she hadn't seen in either Fodlan or Almyra. Books written in languages that she didn't know. Fruits and vegetables from all over the world; she recognized some of the produce from the various seed packets traveling merchants brought with them to the marketplace, such as Morfis seeds and Albania seeds. 

“Al Nasra is certainly busy,” Byleth mused to Payam as his father bartered with one of the vendors selling all sorts of vegetables. Some she had seen or even grown before in the greenhouse, but some were new and interesting. Payam gave a short nod in agreement.

“Uh-huh! It’s the busiest place in all of Almyra,” he told her. “There are some ten-thousand people here at least, which is Woodstock compared to many of the villages and towns scattered about the country. But it's right near one of the biggest oases in the country, so that's why it can hold so many people! Or, at least, until you get to plains area, further north of here."

It was easy to tell that. Byleth had passed through a few villages on her way to the capital, and all of them contained probably no more than fifty people in them. There were no inns, either, meaning on her journey here, she had to sleep under the stars. Which was fine, until she almost got bit by a rattlesnake the other night. Some of the wildlife there was dangerous. Then again, Fodlan had Demonic Beasts and other giant monsters, so who was she to complain? 

But still, it was easy to see why Almyra and Fodlan had such a bad relationship. Most of everything here was either open plains or desert, and resources seemed to be scarce. Fodlan, in contrast, had bountiful harvests every year, and the most extreme temperatures were in Northern Faerghus territory. Especially around Sreng. It would make sense that a country that seemed to be lacking would want more. As a mercenary, she knew the feeling well, always bringing back more food than the mercenary band could eat when they went out hunting. After all, money had been scarce, and having to share it between some twenty to thirty people wasn't easy. So she hunted, fished, gardened and foraged whenever she could.

 _Maybe I could open up trade lines with Almyra once I get back to Garreg Mach,_ Byleth thought to herself as Anton finished bartering and the group continued on its walk. _If I do that, not only will I be able to generate more money, but if Almyra gets more resources, it might lead to a decline in them wanting to attack us. At the very least, get rid of some of this hate between the two countries. If I open up trade routes with Brigid and Dagda as well, then-_

Her train of thought was cut off as she felt a hand on her shoulder. Byleth startled, instinctively drawing the dagger at her belt and turning around to face whomever touched her. The person - a girl - behind her startled as well, jumping back and raising her hands.

“Woah! Calm down, miss,” the girl said in perfect Fodlandese, making Byleth pause as she did a double-take. The woman had pale skin, like Byleth, though hers was a bit tanner, probably from all the sun and heat. She had dark brown haiir, but the thing that really drew Byleth’s attention were her eyes. They appeared to be the same emerald-green color as Claude’s, though hers didn’t sparkle with schemes the way Claude’s did. Frowning, Byleth sheathed the knife, hoping she hadn’t drawn too much attention to herself.

“Who are you?” She asked, glancing over her shoulder at Payam and Anton, who were looking between her and the woman. “And why do you know Fodlandese”

“You’re Byleth Eisner, right?” The woman said, and she narrowed her eyes, nodded. A small smile flickered on the woman’s face. “Ah, you look just like how Judith described you. Mint green hair with matching eyes.”

“Judith?” Byleth said, blinking. Then, the realization hit her. “Oh… you must be her contact.”

“Yes,” she replied, giving a bow. “My name is Estelle. It’s nice to meet you.”

“You as well,” Byleth stated, returning the bow. Then she looked over her shoulder once more at Anton and Payam. “Uhh, if you’ll excuse me.”

They nodded, and Estelle led Byleth away to a quiet alleyway, not in total disuse but rather empty and private as well. The sun was still beating down on them, and Byleth was grateful for the limited but soothing shade the buildings provided.

“So,” Estelle started, crossing her arms over her chest, eyeing her up and down. “You’re looking for the prince, correct?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5 is here! I hope that you guys enjoy, and thank you for making this far! Leaving a comment or kudos would be greatly appreicated, too!


	6. The Contact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth meets with Judith's contact, who may be more than she appears to be

Byleth frowned, resting her hand on the hilt of her sword. “Yes,” she replied after a few seconds, nodding. “But I heard that he’s been kidnapped.”

“Yeah,” Estelle clipped back, giving a grim nod, and she looked around, as if expecting someone to walk in on their conversation. There was a spark of anger in her eyes, almost invisible, but Byleth had spent a lot of time around guarded people to see that. People like Hubert and her father and Claude himself. Of course, with the latter, it was hard to tell what Claude had actually been thinking. But with Estelle, Byleth could see the fire burning in them, mixed with a hint of fear. “Al Nasra is in an uproar, looking for him, but from what I’ve heard, there’s been no luck.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Byleth leaned back on the wall, mind running with questions and possibilities. All the meanwhile, she tried to bite back the unease rolling in her gut.Who would be smart and clever enough to kidnap Claude? He was the kind of person to escape... well, just about anything he wanted to, rather easily if he put his mind to hit. She'd had seen him wandering around outside the monastery after curfew a few times. How could they even do that in the first place? If he was the prince, Byleth imagined that it would be rather difficult to enter the palace. _Then again,_ she mused. _The monastery wasn't much better; Solon, Kronya, Edelgard and Hubert and Jeritza had all managed to get in, and no one had a Gods-damn clue about their real allegiance or reason for being there._

“Does anyone have any clue as to who did it?”

Estelle looked at her, then, with a look Byleth could only describe as analytical. Maybe predatory, though it was hard to tell between the two. It reminded her of the first time she met Edelgard, how the girl always seemed to be watching and observing Byleth for something, probably to see if she was friend or foe. And if she didn’t know any better, she would say that Claude had the same, if not similar, look, though Claude's had more of a twinkling, mischievous gleam to it. Estelle's had a darker look to hers. 

After a few seconds of strained silence, Estelle let out a sigh, peered out of the alleyway. Byleth followed her gaze to see she was looking towards the palace, in all its glory, the sun glistening off the gold ornaments of the roof. It seemed a lot closer than it had a few seconds ago, and if she squinted, Byleth could see the flag of Almyra flying on the top roof, and she was reminded of the banner of the Church of Serios that hung all over the monastery, flapping lazily whenever there was a light breeze.

“Rumor has it that one of Claude’s cousins, Seyed, is responsible,” Estelle told her after a few seconds in a measured, stone-cold voice, drawing back in the alleyway. She pulled out a small dagger, then, with intricate carvings made to look like a small drawing on the handle, glistening gold. How fitting, she mused, for Claude to have been the leader of the Golden Deer; it seemed like gold was a daily part of his life, both in and out of Fodlan. At first, Byleth thought nothing of the design. Then, she had a double-take at the drawing. Was it just her imagination, or was that the Crest of Reigan inscribed on the handle, in the gold carving?

“His cousin?” Byleth asked, looking up from the knife. It was probably just her eyes playing tricks on her from the desert heat and lack of sleep. She knew enough about Claude to know that his mom went across the border to marry the man she loved, and that she was rather stubborn, but that was it. Perhaps it was just a coincidence, although something in Byleth was telling her otherwise.“Why would his cousin do that?”

“Pick any number of reasons,” Estelle said, waving the knife around, catching the light of the Almyran sun. “The prince is apparently a mixed-race child who’s heir to the throne here, but also apparently the former Leichester Alliance east of Fodlan's Locket. A lot of people have never liked the prince because of that, and I’m sure his cousin is no exception. If Claude were to get out of the picture, then Seyed is apparently the person to become the king.”

Byleth frowned, closing her eyes, not missing how Estelle seemed to take great care in choosing which words she chose when speaking, like what Dimitri had done when she first made her rounds through Garreg Mach. But the gears in her head were already turning, spinning as she thought, trying to find the reason and meaning behind it all. She knew Claude wasn't well-liked already, though doing so for political reasons rather than xenophobia made a lot smaller circle of suspects.

“All right, let’s say the motivation to kidnap Claude is political,” She mused, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning on the wall behind her, the gritty sandstone digging into her back. “But if Seyed wanted to claim the throne, why would he kidnap Claude? Why not just kill him? It would certainly be easier, unless…” She trailed off, then, a thought coming to her mind. Was it plausible? Perhaps. 

“Unless what?” Estelle asked, looking at Byleth with narrowed eyes. It was a sharp look, a predatory look, her jaw set and tiny shoulders tight as she looked at Byleth. A memory flashed in Byleth's mind, then, of a tea-time she had with Claude, a few weeks after her father's death, when she didn't so much trust Edelgard as she did anyone else. There had already been three traitors in the monastery at that point, and Byleth was feeling frustrated with the fact she couldn't tell that until it had been too late. So, she had gone to him in hopes of figuring out how to tell when someone was lying. 

_"You know how people say the eyes are the windows to the soul?"_ _He had asked her, leaning back in his chair and grabbing one of the cookies from the plate she had, a gleam in his eyes. Byleth had nodded as she took a sip of her drink - Almyran Pine, one of Claude's favorites. It made sense now. "Well, it's true," he continued, knocking his head on the back of his seat and looking up at the sky._

 _"People can lie, fake intel, make false accusations, master body language, cheat, steal, do any number of things to hide their true intentions... but the eyes don't lie. They never lie. No matter how much people try, they can't hide what their eyes really say."_ _Then he had snapped the cookie in half and pointed one half of it at her, a rare, truthful smile crossing his face_. _"That's part of the reason why I find you so mysterious, Teach. No matter how hard I look, the only thing I can see in your eyes is a deep blue ocean. It's been nine months since I met you, and they still don't betray even a hint of what you're thinking."_

Then, Byleth snapped herself out of her thoughts, turned away from the dark and foggy road that was memory lane. She didn't have time to reminisce right now. She had to find Claude, and no matter how many times she tried, she couldn't go back to the easy days. It was hard rewinding time more than just a day, not to mention six years. So, shaking her head, Byleth focused back on the present, on the here and now, to her current problem.

“Let’s say that, hypothetically, Claude was to be killed,” Byleth said, blinking, though she could almost taste the Almyran Pine tea they had that day. How long had it been since she had it? Since she had a cup of tea or a pitcher of ale? “What would happen then? The crown would to Seyed, right?”

Estelle’s eyes glinted in the sun, so very similar to the way Claude's did whenever he had some sort of scheme or plan that would end up with him in trouble, but she nodded. “Uh-huh.”

“But if the king and queen knew that Seyed did it, would they kill him if caught? Or, at least, strip him of his title, making it so he can’t be king?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Do the king and queen know that Seyed is the one who did it, or is it just a guess?”

“Well, there are a lot of people who would want Claude dead, or at least out of the way, in his family,” Estelle informed her, sheathing the knife with the same ease she had sheathing her own sword. Then she glanced up at the sky, rubbing her chin, unbothered by the smothering heat around them. For Byleth, it was about the only thing she could focus on. “But apparently, Seyed has been missing since Claude was kidnapped, and they never got along as kids, or so I hear. Between that and the fact that Seyed was supposed to take the crown if Claude stayed in Fodlan, it makes him the prime suspect. The guards are just having trouble finding him.”

Resting her hand on the hilt of her sword, Byleth looked around, putting her foot on the wall behind her. “Okay, let’s say that the king and queen know that Seyed kidnapped Claude, and Seyed knows that. It would be easier to kill Claude, yes, but if he wanted to take the throne without any road bumps, well… it would make much more sense to use him as a hostage.”

“Hostage?” Estelle asked, and Byleth wondered if that was a hint of fear she heard in her voice, and it would've been inaudible if not for the slight shake in her voice. Pursing her lips together, Byleth nodded, the gears turning. It felt good to think strategically again; ever since her coronation, she had been focused on rebuilding and diplomatic issues, not strategy and battle and tactics.

“Uh-huh. He’s probably trying to draw the king and queen out, then,” Byleth reasoned, closing her eyes. “I know from talking to Claude he doesn’t have a good relationship with his parents, but if you consider the fact that he’s still their son and the heir to the throne, it would make sense that, if they found where Seyed was keeping Claude, they would join the attack to go rescue him.”

“And you think it’s an attempt to lure them out to kill them,” Estelle finished, voice grim, and she wrung her hands together, almost nervously. Byleth shrugged.

“It’s a possibility, yes,” she replied. “Though it’s not absolute. After all, I only know so much about Claude, much less his father’s side of the family. Plus, Almyran politics and all that are foreign to me. Other than that, I don’t see many reasons why he would want to kidnap Claude, unless there's some sort of own twisted personal vendetta I don't know, like Claude pushed him into a river as kids or something like that.”

Something flashed in Byleth’s mind, then, of when Flayn was kidnapped because of her blood, and she shook that thought away. Those Who Slither had been defeated, and what would they want with Claude, anyways? Not to mention it would be pratically impossible to find him, since they knew less about him than even she did. She was going crazy.

“Al Nasra is big, right?” Byleth asked after a few seconds of thought, opening her eyes. Estelle nodded.

“Uh-huh. It’s the biggest city in all of Almyra,” Estelle reminded her. Byleth frowned, eyes scanning the stone and brick buildings, her eyes darting in the direction of the palace. There were walls around the capital, similar to Garreg Mach, standing tall in the distance, with more flags hanging from it every so often and large watchtowers with bright red, tiled roofs. Big was right; there had to be thousands of houses and buildings in the city.

“Okay… let’s say Seyed is planning on luring out the king and queen with Claude. Now, this could just be from seeing on my side of the mirror, but Almyran tactics are usually just brute force their way through everything, right? At least, that’s what I’ve heard. Often times with wyverns and occasionally horses as well.”

Estelle frowned, crossed her arms over her chest, and nodded. “You’re right there,” she told her. “Living in open plains and deserts in harsh lands doesn’t exactly lead to stealth attacks, when the enemy can see you coming from far away. There are guerilla tactics, sure, but those are few and far in between. Plus, wyverns and horses make it easier to get from one place to another.”

Byleth nodded in response, briefly remembering going over battle plans and strategies with Seteth and the other former Knights in the monastery as they brought about the end of the Empire. Of watching her father go over plans with the other mercenaries, then handing Byleth a sword and standing beside her as they fought off bandits and crooks and murderers, fighting in the way only fathers and daughters could. A hole opened up her in her chest, then, and Byleth worked quickly to close it.

“Okay. Then Seyed probably knows that, and if he’s planning on luring out the king and queen to kill them, it’s entirely possible that they’ll go with that brute-force strategy, meaning they’ll need to set up shop in a place that’s easy to defend," Byleth reasoned, glancing around, remembering the thick stone walls of Merceus and the mysterious mechanics of Shambala. Easy to defend, even from the largest of armies. 

“And since wyverns are weak to arrows and magic, there’s a good chance that he’ll use mages and archers to counter that," she continued, before looking at Estelle. "Estelle, aside from the palace, do you happen to know any place that’s easy to hide a bunch of people and easy to defend during an attack?”

For a moment, Estelle didn’t reply, just looked at her with a look similar to admiration, almost, or praise, like when she first beat her father in a sparring match or helped Alois catch his first fish or saved the three heirs from the bandits the night her life changed. Then, she frowned, looking from side to side.

“There’s a few possible places, for sure,” Estelle said, catching onto what Byleth was thinking. “I’d have to do more research on them, though, and figure out if Claude’s actually being held there or not.”

Byleth narrowed her eyes; something about this suddenly felt fishy. Estelle seemed to know a lot more about the palace and royal family than she assumed that a regular commoner would. The insignia on the knife looked eerily similar to that of the Reigan Crest that Claude had, too, and she had the same colored eyes and gleam in them that Claude had, as well. Did that mean that…?

No. If Estelle was, in fact, Claude’s mother - and by extension, the queen - she could deal with that later. Both Estelle and Claude kept this a secret for whatever reason, so she would have to respect that, for now, as much as the curious, inquisitive, naive part of her wanted her to ask questions and get some straight answers for once in her Gods-dammned life. Maybe it was a test of some sort, to see what kind of person Byleth was, if this was indeed the person Judith sent the letter too. Maybe to see if she was in league with Seyed or actually concerned about Claude. She, at least, seemed kinder than what Byleth had heard about Claude's father, to some extent.

Still, Byleth couldn’t help but poke the bear a _little_.

“And what, exactly, would that entail?” She asked, picking and choosing her words carefully, so as to not alert Estelle to her curiosity, something she picked up from the master of lies himself. “Are you planning on exploring these places yourself? Or are you going to have someone you know do it?”

Estelle was quick, though, like Claude. “I have some people who I can convince to do that,” she told Byleth with a dismissive wave of her hand. “But it’s going to be risky.”

“In that case, I could search them,” Byleth said, and Estelle’s eyes snapped towards her, narrowed. There it was, again, the anger and fire that burned in them, like whenever she overheard someone insulting Dedue when Dimitri was nearby or vice-versa.

“What do you mean by that?” She asked her, voice level and even. Estelle must've had some practice to keep it like that, being a Fodlander in Almyra. Byleth didn’t miss the suspicion in it, however.

“Think about it; Seyed has to be diligent, especially if Claude hasn't managed to escape by now. Meaning he’ll notice if Almyrans are sneaking around whatever base he’s using,” Byleth told her. “If he notices that, he’ll change places, or just cut his losses and kill Claude there and then, and go after the king and queen next. But if someone from Fodlan starts poking around, he probably won’t be as suspicious. Plus, I know how to stay hidden, too.”

Estelle quirked a brow. “You do, do you?”

Byleth nodded. “Yes. I’ve been a mercenary for the better part of my life, running from… whatever the hell my dad was trying to run from. Sneaking and not getting caught is in my blood.”

She also wanted to mention getting an entire army into Merceus and then again into Enbarr without the Empire knowing, but she felt like that would give away too much information about her. After all, Seteth had been very clear; don’t tell anyone you’re the Archbishop. Plus, if Estelle told her, it might make diplomatic negotiations more difficult than they need to be.

It took a moment for Estelle to reply, possibly because she was studying her, trying to see if she was trustworthy. Then, after a few seconds, she gave a sharp nod.

“Alright. I’ll get a map of the capital, complete with all the places that Seyed might be staying in,” she said after a few seconds. “Meet up back here tomorrow, noon sharp.”

Byleth nodded. “Very well. Thank you, Miss Estelle.”

With that, Estelle turned and left, ducking into the crowd that was the market place. Byleth waited a few seconds, mind running as she enjoyed the cool shade, before once more stepping out as well. She started searching around for Anton and Payam, hoping to catch a glimpse of the former based on his blonde hair. It seemed like the only hair colors in Almyra were varying shades of chocolate brown, midnight black, and sunburnt auburn.

It took a few minutes - she and Estelle had been speaking for quite a while, by then - but she eventually found Anton. He had several baskets with him, and Payam had two under his arms, filled with some sort of goods, though Byleth could tell for the life of her what they were. At first glance, though, they appeared to be some sort of yarn or string.  
  
“Ah, there you are,” Anton said upon seeing her. “How did you meeting go?”

“Good, I think,” Byleth told him with a nod, before walking over and grabbing one of the baskets Anton had with him. It was loaded with all sorts of vegetables, from tomatoes to carrots to broccoli and even a few that Byleth couldn't name, which meant they were probably Almyran-grown. “Here, I’ll take that.”

“Oh, you’re too kind,” Anton told her with a smile. “You finished just in time, too. We’re about to head back and have lunch. I hope you like spicy food.”

“I can handle it as long as it’s not too spicy,” Byleth told him, squeezing past two older ladies as they walked in the opposite direction. Tried to ignore all the stares she still got from people, not that it was hard; people had been staring at her all her life, though for distinctly different reasons. “Food in Fodlan isn’t exactly flavorful.”

Anton let out a small chuckle in response. “You’re right about that,” he said. “I didn’t realize that until I came here. The food is certainly an improvement, that’s for sure, but it sure as heck is spicy. I almost burnt my mouth off the first time I tried Ziba's traditional Almyran-style cooking.”

Byleth just let out a hum in response, eyes darting from side to side, hoping to catch a glimpse of her old friend. Claude was smart and crafty; there was a reasonable chance he could escape. Just like Dimitri apparently did when Cornelia sentenced him all those years ago.

But if she knew that within a year and a half of meeting him, though, then Seyed probably knew that, too, growing up together. It was entirely possible that he could’ve concocted up his own plan to counter Claude’s silver tounge and ever-constant schemes. That thought didn’t sit well with her, though. Neither did the thought of Claude sitting somewhere, all alone, in a dark room, waiting for someone to come get him. If anyone would even go get him, if she knew the guy well enough. And the fact that she didn’t know if he was even dead or not made her stomach turn.

If he was, in fact, alive, Byleth would find him. She wished to see that smile of his again, see the gleam in his striking eyes. It may not have been her fault he went missing at Grondor or got kidnapped in the first place, but she still felt responsible, somehow. After all, she was his teacher, his professor. Keeping students safe had been in the job description.

Sighing, Byleth rested her hand on the hilt of her sword, recalling the night she first met him. A stranger, turned ally, turned friend. Then, because of her stupidity, she had gotten knocked off that damn cliff and disappeared for five years. She had chosen to save Rhea than the rest of the students than to help them escape like she should've done. What would've happened if she did? If Thales had never knocked her off the cliff in the first place? Would Dimitri still be alive? Gilbert? Would Claude still be in Fodlan, or would he have gone back anyways and been in this exact same damn situation? She didn't know; perhaps she never would know.

Still, she was angry with herself. Byleth had left him and all the other students behind to fight in a bloody war while she slept peacefully at the bottom of a fucking cliff. A part of her wondered how she even survived in the first place, or why she woke up right before the Millenium Festival, of all the times. And had it really been Sothis that woke her up in the first place, or was it just a figment of her imagination?

Had he even thought about her, during that time? The letter she got from him at Alliel still rang, clear in her mind. _I never dared to think you might still be alive._ It was a valid thought, for sure; she had been missing for five years. But it still felt… odd. Cold. Icy. Or maybe she was just reading into it.

 _Sothis,_ Byleth thought, glancing up at the sky. _I don’t know if you can still hear me. But, if you can, please… help me find Claude. Help keep him safe. I couldn’t help Dimitri or Edelgard, but if Claude is still alive, I ask that you protect him until I find him. No matter how long that takes._


	7. Searching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After meeting with Judith's contact, Estelle, who seems familiar in a way she can't place, Byleth starts scouring Al Nasra in an attempt to find out where Claude is being held at.

**Red Wolf Moon, 11/15**

After meeting up with Estelle the next day and getting a rather detailed map of Al Nasra, Byleth set out to really start her search for Claude. Estelle had been kind enough to mark off all the places Seyed might be hiding out at with a circle, meaning that all Byleth had to do now was to find each and every one of these places and not get caught. Luckily, she had managed to find the bakery, and she marked it off with a small green check so she could find her way back. From there, she used the map to get to her first destination, the compound closest to her.

She had spent an hour surveying it from afar, stealthily climbing up and down the building, checking for guards or soldiers or even mages and archers, anything to indicate the fact that someone might be held there. But there was nothing. No burning of the midnight oil, no ax and sword tips gleaming in the moonlight, no mages wearing Almyran silks and chatting amoungst themselves. Just darkness and silence.

One down, eight to go.

The next two places were a bust, too, though. Too silent, too dark, too empty of mages and archers and swordsmen and ax wielders. No Claude. So now Byleth was headed for the fourth, keeping an eye out for anyone suspicious.

It felt… almost good, doing all these mercenary-esque things. Ever since she joined the Monastery, she had been in several fights, sure. But between that and teaching and then leading a war, she didn’t get a chance to do what she used to do as a mercenary. Surveying, scouting, walking alone an empty road in the middle of the night, sneaking out of the inn or camp to go meet up with secret boyfriends or watch the mercenaries fight or observe the town from afar. Of course, she had snuck out of her room at the monastery and wandered around the town, sometimes drinking, sometimes to have a moment of peace to herself, sometimes to just feel the wind on her face as she ran down the hill, matched only by the thrill of potentially getting caught by Seteth or one of the other Knights.

Almyran nights were cold, the bitter breeze and wind reminding her of Faerghus winters or nighttime in the spring, summer, and fall. Not cold enough for large jackets and mittens, or where she could see her breath, but cold enough to send goosebumps up her skin, to feel the wind caressing her face, to see the frost on the grass in the morning. That was probably the place she had done the most jobs in, at least when it wasn’t winter there. (Although sometimes, when they had no choice, Byleth had to bear the cold and the snow that seeped into her boots and the burning warmth of a drink at night as she sat next to a fire in a cozy inn) But this time, there was a sense of… melancholiness, of loneliness, associated with it. Even then, she had been with the mercenaries, with Jeralt. She had been around people all her life, practically. 

First it was the mercenary. Then it was the students, then the students turned soldiers. Now, she was by herself, in a foreign land she knew next to little about. Anton and Payam and Ziba had let her stay at the bakery until she found Claude, sure, but… they weren’t people she was close with. They weren't people she knew, she could laugh with and tell secrets to and admit her fears and worries to. No one to give her advice, or comfort her when she was sad. In fact, she hadn't really had been that close with anyone since Edelgard had declared war against the Church.

Suddenly, Byleth felt as if though a hole had been split open in her chest, and she longed for Sothis or Jeralt to be by her side. Hell, even just hearing the goddess's voice would bring Byleth a little bit of comfort. But her mind didn’t linger on that thought for long, for she soon reached the next base. This was a tall one, near the outskirts of the city. Inside the windows, torch light flickered, casting shadows on the inside of the building.

A chill raced up her spine and went back down again, and Byleth rested a hand on her sword once more. Something told her that this was the place where Claude was at. She could feel it, in her bones, like when she snuck into the Holy Mausoleum with the Eagles during the Rite of Rebirth. When she had first found the Sword of the Creator. When she had first got the sense that she was part of something bigger than herself, part of something that she couldn't control, something dangerous, just out of reach of fixing. Placing her hand on her unbeating chest, she realized, grimly, that she had been right. 

A vassal for the Goddess. For Rhea to bring her mother back, without any regard to Byleth's feelings and the family and friends she had. That's all Byleth was supposed to have been. Sometimes, Byleth had wished that her dad had never taken her to the monastery, that she should've left when she had the chance. Right now was one of those times. Oh, how life would be so much different if she had left. Would her father still be alive? Would she even care about what happened to Edelgard and Dimitri and Claude? Would she have just let Edelgard ravage Fodlan in pursuit of her ambitions - ambitions, Byleth realized bitterly, that had been justified, to some extent. Did Edelgard know what Rhea was trying to do to her? Was that why she had interrupted the ceremony at the Holy Tomb, where Byleth was supposed to have become Sothis?

No, there's no time for those thoughts right now, Byleth told herself, shaking her head and gripping the hilt of her ax. That was a long time ago. Her father had always told her there was no point in looking back to the past, that she couldn't go back and fix the mistakes she made minutes, days, months, even years ago. He had told her to look towards the future, to put one foot in front of the other, to stand strong and don't look over your shoulder. It was what Byleth had done after her dad's death, and after Edelgard's declaration of war, after Grondor and Dimitri's death. It was what she had to do now, if she wanted to find Claude. 

Pulling her hood up, Byleth stood and observed the building from afar for a few minutes, checking to see if there were any guards on the walls. She was right; on the north end, there were two hooded figures standing there, barely visible in the night. But Byleth had spent a lot of time learning to track and see things in the dark, should the mercenaries ever need to fight at night. A handy skill to have. Narrowing her eyes, Byleth folded up the map and ducked into a small alleyway, skirting the outside of the building, sticking close to the wall so the guards didn’t see her. With any luck, the few torchlights and new moon would keep her very well hidden. And if worse came to worse, she had Divine Pulse to get her out in a pinch, too.

Eventually, she reached the south wall, and stared up at the building. She didn’t see any guards up there, similar to the east and west walls. Looking back down at the wall, Byleth ran her fingers over it; the stone was rough, and old, with broken cracks and holes in them. Perfect to climb up. She used to spend a lot of time climbing up and down trees and the walls of buildings - mostly the monastery - way back when. It was like second nature to her, although buildings were cut from a different cloth. 

Slowly, Byleth started up the side of the building, taking extra precautions to not fall and cause a ruckus. It was slow going, the foot and handholds hard to see in the dark, but she eventually made her way up to the second floor. Closing her fist and getting ready to use Divine Pulse, Byleth peered over the edge onto the deck. Luckily for her, there were no guards or soldiers there. Narrowing her eyes, Byleth pulled herself over and onto the floor, her hands scraped and raw from the climbing. Of course, she would have to get back down, too, but one problem at a time.

Unsheathing the dagger at her hip, Byleth dashed over to the wall, pressing her back to it as she sneaked over to one of the doors. Unlike Fodlan, doorways in Almyra didn’t always have doors on them, usually just stone arches as doorways. Torchlight shone from inside, and she heard faint whispering in Almyran, too. Keeping her breath slow and steady, Byleth glanced over her shoulder, then peered around the doorway. There were two men inside, talking to each other. What they were saying, though, Byleth couldn’t understand. It just sounded like a bunch of jibberish.

But apparently, names sounded the same in both Fodlandese and Almyran. More than once did Byleth pick up Claude’s name, and she felt a spark of… something… in her chest, though she couldn't quite tell what it was. It was hard, trying to discern what she felt, especially without someone there to explain it to.

_So he’s here,_ Byleth thought to herself, stepping away from the door before she got spotted. Her eyes darted around the compound, then, scanning for any place he might be. _But where?_ If this place was as decked out with soldiers as Byleth thought it was, there would be no chance of her getting through without getting spotted.

Backing away from the door, Byleth skirted the outside of the deck, not daring to step out from behind the corner in case the guards spotted her. Once she did that, she headed back to the south side and looked up. There were still more levels above this, so Byleth started to climb up again, ignoring the wincing of her hands. This time, when she reached the deck there, Byleth found herself peering over the edge, straight into the face of an archer. The hair rising on the back of her neck, Byleth scanned the area will quickly to get an assessment, then dropped down to the last level as the man shouted out commands in Almyran.

As expected, the fall hurt her legs, sending pins and needles up them, but then Byleth snapped both of her hands shut. The world around her froze, then, turning purple as she activated Divine Pulse, her fingertips glowing with a light green color. She pulled her hands back, and once she was convinced she was far enough back, she let go. The world shattered, the purple disappearing from her vision to be replaced by the original black skies and muted stone. For a moment, Byleth stood there, frozen, hoping Divine Pulse had worked.

Silence. No shouting, no commands in Almyran. Meaning it had.

Letting out a sigh she didn’t know she was holding, Byleth glanced up once more. Yeah, Claude was definitely being held here. And if her brief glance at the next level was any indication, this Seyed guy was definitely expecting a wyvern-based brute force attack. Mages and archers lined the top; no axes or swords or lances in sight. Just bows and tomes. Sheathing her knife, Byleth brushed her hands off on her armor, mind already planning on what to do next. She needed a way to get up to the next level without getting caught; she didn’t want to waste her Divine Pulse and then be stuck with this Seyed guy knowing someone had found his base. That would cause all sorts of problems, problems Byleth didn't quite want to deal with right now.

Heading back to the door, Byleth peered down it once more. It was empty, and against her better judgment, she drew her knife and started down the hall with measured steps and slow breath. Her nerves were jangling with every step, and more often than not, did she look over her shoulder in case someone appeared behind her. A nervous habit, one she picked up as a child, when she was sent out to assess the camps enemy bandits and rouges had made. It had only grown during the war as she walked ahead of the Knights, searching for enemy Imperial camps on their way to their next destination.

As Byleth suspected, most of the doors were closed, and she didn’t want to risk getting found out by opening them. Whatever this was, though, it was fancy. Nice couches, and, from a quick glance into one of the rooms, a rather fancy dining room as well. It reminded her of Hilda’s house, but with its own Almyran decor. Then, she heard footsteps coming down the hall ahead of her. Byleth froze, looking over her shoulder, and looked around. Someone was coming, but she had no clue where to hide.

Stepping back and preparing to use Divine Pulse, Byleth slipped into the dining room, and inserted herself under the table there. In the torchlight and through the chairs, she saw someone - a guard, probably - walking by. They paused outside the dining room, and Byleth tightened the grip on her knife.

But after the guard decided that the room was empty, they continued on their patrol, allowing Byleth to exhale. She waited a few seconds to make sure they didn’t come back before getting out from under the table. Now acutely aware of the echo in this place, Byleth took her shoes off, tucked them under her free arm. The stone was covered in rugs, but she could still feel the cold seeping out from under them. She might get frostbite, but it was better than being caught.

Once more, Byleth started down the hall, eventually coming across a staircase leading upwards. Narrowing her eyes and pushing down the unease in her gut, Byleth started up it, peering around the corner as she did. But there wasn’t anyone there, so she went up to the next level. Empty, too.

All in all, it took about an hour of careful hiding and searching and a few Divine Pulses to explore most of what she wanted to see. But when she had a feeling she could only use Divine Pulse one, maybe two times, she decided to call it quits and stop while she was ahead. Her head was already starting to feel fuzzy, limbs heavy, and a small trickle of blood was dripping from her nose. If she got caught, it would be that much harder to run and fight. The war had really tested her limits of mortality, Divine Pulse, and sanity.

Byleth hadn’t any luck finding Claude; she wasted most of her Divine Pulses opening up wrong doors, doors that led to either nothing or guards. She would have to come back later, once her Divine Pulse was restored and she was less tired. It had been quite a while since she last slept, after all. So, with a heavy heart, Byleth clambered her way back down, stepping away from the building. It didn’t feel right, leaving Claude there by himself, not knowing help was on the way.

But the rational part of Byleth knew that, if she wanted to actually help him, she would have to step back. The best fighters always knew when to step back. If she got found and ran out of Divine Pulse uses, it would alert Seyed. Then who knew what could happen if she got caught?

“I’ll be back, Claude, I promise,” Byleth said as she looked at the map, under the torchlight, trying to find her way back to the bakery. She let him down once, when she hadn't been at his side at Grondor, but she would not let that happen again. No matter how long it took, she would find him and get him out of there. 

As she walked back, her mind was already turning with plans and tactics to use. There were a lot of guys there, enough to defend against a front-force assault. Assuming that Estelle was, in fact, Claude’s mother - and by extension, the queen of Almyra - she would have to convince her to launch some sort of sneak attack.

_This Seyed guy certainly seems confident about the front-force assault. He was probably expecting only that, and nothing else. Meaning that, if she could get Estelle to launch a sneak attack, it would catch him off guard._

Luckily for Byleth, while exploring the compound, she had found a small stairway off to the side that seemed to descend underground, and it looked like it hadn’t been used in some time. If she could find out where that led to, she could pull off a sneak attack from there. It would probably catch this Seyed guy off-guard, as most of his guards and troops seemed to be located on the upper levels of the compound. Probably to either guard Claude or to better attack people with without getting caught.

A part of Byleth was tempted to write back to Leonie or Ignatz or Raphael, any of the Deer. They would certainly be strong enough to lead an attack and willing to listen to her, and she doubted that the Almyran forces would. After all, relations between Fodlan and Almyra weren't the best; they never have been. TBut they were probably already busy with their own dreams and ambitions. Besides, that would take far too much time, time Claude probably didn’t have. If soldiers were searching the city, it would only take a matter of time before they found the compound.

Glancing up at the sky, Byleth reasoned she still had about… one, maybe two, hours before the sun rose. She frowned, wondering if she would have time to poke around and look for that secret passage before any of the guards there got suspicious. Stopping under a torchlight, Byleth unfurled the map, looked at it. The door had been on the east side, and if it was just a line, it would go straight to the wall. The problem was, she had no idea where it would stop at. Would it end beyond the wall, or would it stop somewhere before it?

_I’ll have to come back for another look tomorrow night,_ Byleth mused, looking back towards the compound again. _Maybe I can spend some time observing the compound from afar, too, before the soldiers take notice of it. I would just have to find a place to hide out and watch the place._

Her eyes scanned the Almyran skyline, looking for any buildings nearby that she could observe the compound from. Finally, her eyes landed on a tall building a little way west of the compound, taller than the compound itself. Something flared in Byleth’s chest, and she looked down at the map, looked back up again. She could feel the thrumming pulse of the Sword of the Creator on her back, still wrapped in its fabric. A part of Byleth wanted to unsheath it, feel the cool touch of the ivory in her hands as she cut her way through the compound, to Claude.

But for now, that would have to wait. She knew far too little about this situation to go in, and even if she did, she was outnumbered. Her skills could only take her so far, when she was fighting against dozens of guards. So, ignoring the pulsing feeling from the sword, Byleth started towards the building, praying that Claude would still be alive by the time she got there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much here, just a bit of sneakin' around and doing mercenary stuff. I figure that, as a mercenary, Byleth had to have some kind of scouting/sneaking experience, right? (Plus I love assassin/stealthy/sneaky or otherwise vaugely mysterious and rougeish characters with all my heart which is why Claude has captured mine)


	8. Plan of Attack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After searching the compound, Byleth is sure Claude is being held in there somewhere. All she had to do was convince Estelle to sneak in, but a group of assassins makes things difficult.

**Red Wolf Moon, 11/19**

Byleth spent the next four days observing the compound, attempting to get the guards' schedules and time shifts, learning how many people were there, where they were placed. It had been tough work, but by the time she had finished, Byleth felt confident in knowing two things; where Claude might be, as well as where and when to attack it. She was tired, and her hands were now scraped and raw from all the climbing she was doing, but she was confident. 

So, with that information, Byleth met up with Estelle that night near the compound, pointing out to her every bit of information and schedule she had gathered. She had figured out where the secret passage had led too, as well; it had started at an old, unused house against the edge of the eastern wall, descending underground and twisting under the city. All Byleth needed to do now was to convince Estelle to follow her plan of attack; A sneak attack, instead of charging the damn thing.

“Are you sure this is going to work?” Estelle asked, skepticism in her voice once Byleth had told her everything she knew about the compound. Her eyes said the same thing as she looked Byleth up and down, darting from her to the map. 

Confident in her abilities as not only a leader but as a mercenary, Byleth nodded. “Yes. This Seyed guy has everything focused on a brute-force attack. Mages, archers, and lots of places for long-ranged fighters to fly. There's a ballista on the top of the compound, too, perfect for long-range attacks on wyverns. It would be easy to take out a half-dozen wyvern riders with a few good-placed shots if an archer saw them from far away. Additionally, there’s no one guarding the secret passage, and he only has about a dozen or so brute-force attackers.”

“Which is more than you can say,” Estelle reminded her, and Byleth frowned. She had the feeling Estelle was going to try and take her off of this, but she wasn’t going to let that happen. She'd been nosing her way into far too many mysterious and had wasted far too much time doing this to back down now. 

“Are you sure, Mrs. von Reigan?” Byleth asked, making sure to keep her voice quiet and level enough so no one around heard them. Sure, it was night out, and they were hidden in an alleyway in the dead of night, but clearly, Estelle had taken precautions to not tell anyone about this, or to even have guards following her. Clearly, this was a woman confident in her own abilities of taking out any attackers, even so soon after her son was kidnapped. “Or should I say Your Majesty?”

Estelle’s eyes widened in the torchlight, and she glanced down and to the left, a telltale sign of a lie, and she rubbed her neck. Claude obviously got some of his tells from her, but she played it off with a smile. "What do you mean by that, Miss Eisner?"

"No need to hide it," Byleth responded. "I'm not an assassin or anything like that. Just a mercenary-turned-Professor, concerned about her missing student."

Estelle went silent, before she crossed one leg over the other and leaned back. “How’d you know?” She asked, closing one eye in a quick wink. The move was so similar to Claude’s it made Byleth’s chest hurt.

“You talked like you knew a lot about the royal family, something not many commoners could say. You have the same hair and eye color he does, too.” Byleth told her. “But what really cinched it was the knife you took out the other day, when we first met. It had the Crest of Reigan inscribed on it.”

A grim smirk crossed Estelle’s face. “Claude was right; you are quick,” She told her, not bothering to lie this time around. Clearly, Claude had told his mom about her, and a part of Byleth hoped it was good. If she was a mercenary, she wouldn't care. But as the Archbishop, first relations with the queen of a rival country would be important. Then Estelle sighed, closed her eyes. “Nothing personal, though, Miss Eisner. As a disliked queen, you can never be too careful. And although Claude has told me a lot about you, I still didn’t know. That letter from Judith came so soon after his kidnapping, it just… set off alarm bells.”

“So you wanted to see what kind of person I was, see if I was in league with Seyed,” Byleth said, unable to keep a hint of bitterness out of her voice, although she didn't quite blame the queen for thinking that. Still, at this point in her life, she was getting sick of all these lies. She could almost hear Sothis’ quip about that. _Observation and lying must run in the family._

Estelle shrugged. “Sorry. Can never know who’s a friend and who’s an enemy.”

A statement Byleth knew all too well, thinking back to Monica - no, Kronya - and Thomas and Jertiza. Hubert. Edelgard. Then, the image of their dead bodies - of her father, still as the grave - flashed in her mind once more, and she clenched her jaw, shook that thought away. But still, his last words echoed in your head. _"To think, the first time I see cry, your tears are for me."_

It had been nearly six years, now, and not even Sothis could bring her back. Besides, Hubert and Edelgard had made their choice, too. Though Byleth couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if she had chosen to side with them, instead of Rhea and the knights. After all, Edelgard was right to some extent - Rhea was hiding something. She was meant to be a vassal for the Goddess, meant to trade her life so Rhea could bring her mother back. Once she learned that, Edelgard's death had hurt even more. Honestly, she was rather glad that Rhea had bit the dust. 

Byleth sighed. “You can make that up later by buying me a drink, once we rescue Claude,” Byleth told her, pulling her hair up into a ponytail again. “I’m assuming, as queen, you can get a bunch of soldiers here then, right?”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Estelle nodded.

“Uh-huh. Though my husband would want to join us; he never misses the chance to show off his battle prowess, which will be a problem. Plus, although it does not look like it, he does care about Claude,” Estelle told her. “I can see the merit in your strategy, and I’m sure the soldiers will be… annoyed, to say the least, but they’ll follow the orders if they come from me. But my husband will want to do exactly what Seyed is planning.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Byleth mused, recalling the stories Claude had told her about his father. “Do you think you can convince him to go with my plan? If we go through with it, the way he wants it, we could lose a lot of soldiers. And I’ve already seen enough death for one lifetime.”

“I could try,” Estelle said, standing up. “I’m not sure how much good it would do, though. If you can convince him, though, I’ll buy you a year’s worth of drinks.”

“Wait.” Byleth paused, frowning, and she pointed to herself. “You… you want me to meet him?”

Estelle made a swaying motion with her head. “More like… I may or may not have told him of you and the fact you’re looking for Claude, and he wants updates every time I come back.”

“Oh.”

Frowning, Estelle turned, looked to the direction of the palace, though she could only see the roof from where they were. “Well?” She asked. “You want to get this done?”

“Like… right now?”

“Well, at the time you said would be the best to attack,” Estelle reminded her, turning back to Byleth. “I’ll go back and tell my husband of this little plan your making, and we’ll meet back up here this time tomorrow?”

Byleth was going to reply, but then she heard a soft noise in the air. A moment later, though, she saw an arrow sticking out from Estelle’s back that hadn’t been there a moment ago.

She didn’t think twice, snapping her hands shut and activating Divine Pulse. The world froze, then rewound in slow-motion, the arrow un-embedding itself from Estelle’s back and traveling backward. Byleth followed the motion to see a figure dressed in dark clothes with a hood on standing in the corner of the alleyway, not to far from them. One she was sure the arrow was far enough away to do any damage, she opened up her hands, and the world snapped back into motion. Acting fast, she darted forward, tackling Estelle to the ground with a grunt. Byleth heard the whistling of the arrow as it traveled over their heads, powered by the air.

“Hey, what the hell-”

“Stay down,” Byleth snapped, standing up and drawing her sword, raising her other hand and preparing a spell. She charged towards the man, who promptly lowered his bow, but before she could get near him, another guy stepped into the alleyway.

Byleth skidded to a stop, almost running into the guy as he rose his ax above his head, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. Acting on instinct, Byleth leaped to the side at the same time the ax came down, the tip of it clashing against her armor and promptly denting it.

Grabbing a fistful of the fabric of the man’s shirt, Byleth tightened the grip on her axe and spun on the ball of her foot. With a grunt, she drove her sword upwards through the man’s chest, and he let out a scream as the sword plunged through him. He slumped forward a moment later, nearly bringing Byleth down with him, but she yanked her sword from his chest at the last minute.

“Estelle!” Byleth shouted, swerving her head to look at the queen, but she was engaged in combat with two other guys. From what she could see she was handling herself pretty well. Then, Byleth felt a sharp pain in her leg, and she glanced to the side to see the archer there, already drawing another arrow.

Narrowing her eyes, Byleth raised her arm, ignoring the twinge of pain her leg gave in protest. She muttered an incantation, and a magic ring appeared in front of her hand, a fireball darting from it a moment later. The archer tried to dive out of the way, but Byleth followed up her attack, charging towards him and slashing out with her sword. Her leg burned with each step, but she pushed past it. Her sword cut across the archer's chest, and she let out a scream, blood flying from her wound, and she slammed against the back wall, bow dropping from her hands. Glancing around, Byleth spun on the ball of her foot and looked in Estelle’s direction once more, running towards the queen.

From what little she heard about Claude’s mother, it had all been right, apparently. She was tough, easily dodging a swing from the sword of an assassin, and striking out at them, quick as a viper. The assassin lept to the side, and Byleth saw the blade of the queen’s dagger cut her arm, and heard her hiss. Trying to ignore the pain her leg gave, she rose another hand to cast a spell, a magic ring forming in front of her hand. But the assassin saw that, too, and jumped back, before charging Estelle.

Byleth got there just in time, dropping to the ground and sweeping Estelle’s legs out from under her. She saw the blade of the dagger brush over the queen’s head, just bare inches from her nose and probably slivering some of her hair. Quickly, she scrambled to her feet, running towards the assassin. The assassin parried her attack, their blades clashing against one another, the sound of steel echoing in the otherwise silent night. Then the assassin jumped back, drawing their sword back to attack, jabbing out at Byleth's chest.

Byleth dodged, ducking under the sweep of the blade, and grabbed their leg, lifted it up. The assassin stumbled, and Byleth used that to push them to the ground with a thud, before pressing the tip of her blade to their neck, hoping the gesture would be clear without words. The assassin stilled under Byleth's grips, her flint-colored eyes sending daggers into Byleth's, her lips drawn into a smile. 

“You okay?” Byleth asked Estelle, looking up at the queen, who nodded as she sheathed her dagger.

“Yeah, thanks,” She said, before looking around, and a low whistle escaped her. “Claude was right. You are skilled.”

Byleth shrugged as she lifted the assassin to their feet, leg twitching in protest, and snaked her arm around them, pressing her blade to her neck. “That’s my job. Fight people and not get killed. I did save one for you, though.”

“Your leg, though… You should get that checked out.”

Casting a glance at the wound in her leg - Sothis would berate her for not wearing metal leg guards, instead choosing to wear basic cotton - she gulped, nodded. “Probably,” she mused, glancing around to make sure no one else was nearby. “I don’t suppose you know any healers, huh?” 

“Healers?” Estelle shook her head. “No, just doctors. Most of the healers here are... not as good here as they are in Fodlan.”

Frowning, Byleth nodded, walking the assassin over to Estelle. “Well, then you should probably take this girl back and see what information about Claude and Seyed you can wrangle from her. And talk to your husband, too, get ready to attack. Before we lose the element of surprise, or before Seyed moves.”

“So it’s agreed,” Estelle commented, taking the assassin from Byleth and placing her own dagger against the assassin's neck. “We meet back up at that one house, this time tomorrow morning?”

Byleth nodded, nerves jangling in anticipation of this rescue mission. It was a familiar sensation, one she always got before a battle, running up and down her arms. She realized, numbly, that it had been many months since she last felt that quickfire prickling sensation. “Uh-huh. Better move quickly, then. And to be sneaky. We’re going to need to rely on the fact that Seyed doesn’t think we’ll use the secret passage if we want to win.” I wonder if he even knows it exists in the first place. 

The assassin said something in Almyran, then, and Byleth could just barely see a flicker of anger in Estelle’s face, there and then gone. Byleth recognized the look; it was a look she had seen in Claude and Cyril, before, whenever she heard someone berate them for them being Almyran. It was there and then gone, though, and Estelle replied in Almyran, who bristled, before glaring at Byleth over her shoulder, staring daggers at them.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then, Miss Esiner,” Estelle said, and she turned, taking the assassin and walking away from Byleth. She watched them go, sheathing her sword as she did so, before looking to the compound.

 _I’ll be there soon, Claude,_ Byleth promised, ducking back into the alleyways. Her mind was swimming with thoughts as she walked back to the building she’d used as an observation tower for the past four days. Sleep would not come easy to her, not tonight. It never did before a fight such as that, even as a mercenary, which often led to late-night fishing expeditions and exploring and sneaking out with some of her secrets boyfriends for makeout and/or training sessions. Not that she had ever had much of the former.

The first thing she did upon arriving at the building was tend to her injured leg, applying a mixture of healing magic, a vulenary and some bandages to the wound to heal it. It would leave a scar, for sure, but not a big one, though she would have to be careful tomorrow during the fight, lest she aggravate the wound and injure herself further, or it cause her to slip up.

After checking to make sure she could still hold her weight and both the silver sword and the Sword of the Creator, Byleth checked to make sure no one was near the building. If the assassins had figured out where Estelle and Byleth were, it was possible they’d discovered her little nest, too. Once she did that - it was safe - she clambered up the side of the building. One of the few things buildings in both Fodlan and Almyra had in common was that they were easy to scale.

Taking a seat on the roof, Byleth grabbed the small flask she’d kept inside her pocket, saved for when she couldn’t bring a bottle. The moon was still shining above Al Nasra, casting a glow down. Almyran nights were always clear like that, unlike Fodlan. More often than not, whenever she was out on watch or taking a stroll through the monastery, clouds covered the sky. Especially in Faerghus during winter.

Tonight, though, it would be the stars and Byleth up there, alone in her thoughts and memories.

As she opened up the flask, she let her gaze wander the night sky, eyes darting to and from the constellations that Claude and her dad both had shown her. Like Claude, she had always enjoyed looking up at the sky during the night time. Whenever she was out on look-out for the camp back during her mercenary days, she traced the patterns the stars made with her own fingers. It was clear to her, now, why the schemer loved the night sky so much. There was something so peaceful about it, about the black of the sky, the twinkle of the stars, the vast openness of it.

Byleth’s memory flashed back, then, to the Goddess Tower, the night of the ball. After meeting Edelgard there, Claude had found his way up there, and for once, he spoke honestly. It was the first time she had ever heard about his dreams and ambitions, no lies attached. Just honesty and fears and ambitions. It was the most truthful he'd ever been to her - probably anyone, if she had to guess - and he had trusted her enough to tell her so.

It had warmed up something in her chest, something she would later describe as flattery, and based on the gleam that had been in his eyes, then, Claude probably felt the same. A part of her wondered that, if she had chosen him instead of Edelgard - or even Dimitri instead of her - how different life would be. Would they have been waiting for her? Normally, she wouldn't think about things like that. But tonight, she would entertain those thoughts, wonder about the possibilities and just how different life would be if she had chosen a different house, a different side. 

If she had chosen the Golden Deer house, would Claude still have danced at her with the ball? Would she have cried on his shoulder when he found her after her father's death, instead of Edelgard? Would he have been the one waiting for her at the Goddess tower after her five-year slumber? Would he still think that she was dead, or would he hold out hope that he would see her again? So many questions, but no answers, and she wouldn't get any of them anyhow.

That was a long time gone. And Byleth would be lying if she said it didn’t hurt.


	9. Sneaking In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After meeting Claude's stern-looking dad (who is also, apparently, the king of Almyra) Byleth and the Almyrans storm the compound, and Byleth starts her search for Claude and Seyed

**Red Wolf Moon, 11/20**

At first glance, Claude’s father seemed _exactly_ the kind of guy who would tie his kid to a horse and have it drag him around.

The King of Almyra was standing at about six foot, which would make sense, given Claude’s height when she’d known him, and had a thick beard, too, far thicker than the beard of most the men at the monastery. He was built like a tree, too, with broad shoulders and a thick neck. Looked a little like a cross between Dedue and Raphael in terms of muscle, and could probably wield an ax up to two times his weight. She had heard stories of his battle prowess, too, from way back when he was about her age, cutting down enemies like butter, laughing all the while. 

Whether that was true or not, well, Byleth was about to find out for herself.

Dark brown eyes pierced hers when she first met him, burning with curiosity, distrust and sternness, but Byleth was rather unaffected. Living with mercenaries and teaching Hubert had made her immune to that sort of gaze. Still, Byleth had a feeling that she wasn’t going to like this guy, especially after hearing the few but rather unappealing stories Claude had told her of him.

“You must be the mercenary my son talks about,” The king said in near-perfect Fodlandese after a few moments of tense silence between the two. Byleth nodded, giving a bow and ignoring the suspicion-filled stares the soldiers with him gave her. They had never affected her before, and she wasn’t going to start letting it affect her in front of the king of another nation. She was, after all, the Ashen Demon, who feared nothing, not even death itself. A few stares wasn't going to unnerve her.

“I am. Byleth Eisner,” She replied, straightening up. “It’s an honor to meet you, Your Highness.”

“Call me Bahadur,” Claude’s father replied in a gruff tone, before returning the bow. “I heard you helped save Estelle from an assassin. I thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Byleth replied, trying to maintain an air of formality with the king. “It’s the least I could do.”

“So, you believe that my son is being held over there,” Bahadur said, pointing at the compound. Byleth nodded in response, absentmindedly double-tapping the map in front of her.

“Yes. Based on its defense and the number of people there, the security they had, and while scouting, I kept overhearing the guards talking about Claude. Or, at least, I think him. I don’t know enough Almyran to say what, exactly, they were talking about,” She explained. “I haven’t been able to find out where, exactly, Claude is - it’s too well guarded, and doing so would put both of us in danger - but I know how to get there.”

“You want to sneak in,” Bahadur finished, giving a sharp nod. Byleth frowned, but nodded, figuring Estelle must’ve told him.

“I do. From the looks of it, this Seyed guy is counting on some sort of brute-force attack, and is leaving this passageway completely unguarded.”

“How do you know?” Estelle asked, tilting her head. Byleth glanced over her shoulder into the other room, where the not-so-secret door was at.

“I’ve been checking this passage every day since I discovered it, and I checked it about a half-hour ago. So far, I haven’t seen any guards or any signs of life. He probably doesn’t even know its there.”

Bahadur was silent for a minute, looking at Byleth with a somewhat guarded and fierce expression,far sharper than any look Claude had ever given her. Byleth just narrowed her eyes in response, returning his look with her own blank gaze. If he was hoping to intimidate her, he wasn’t going to get very far. Noticing this tense silence between the two, Estelle broke it.

“Well, my dear? Do you think Miss Eisner’s plan has merit?” She asked, turning to her husband. After another few seconds of silence, Bahadur crossed his arms over his chest.

“How confident are you about this plan working?” He asked. Byleth closed her eyes, recalling all the security, people and the floor plan she’d memorized to the best of her knowledge.

“Very,” she replied after a few seconds of thinking. “I’ve been a mercenary long enough to know well enough.”

He looked to his wife, then. “Do you think this plan has merit, Estelle?”

The queen gave a short nod. “We’ve both heard Claude talk about Miss Eisner’s skills on the battle the night they met, and she saved him,” she said. “She saved my life, too. And if Claude seems to trust her, then I do as well.”

“Very well. If my wife and son both trust you, then I shall have to take their word for it.” The king turned to his soldiers, then, and said something in Almyran. Whatever it was made them straighten up and reply in turn. After a few seconds of indecipherable conversation between the Almyrans, the king turned to Byleth. “Lead the way.”

Giving a nod, Byleth turned on her heel and walked towards the secret door. With a small wave of her hand and some magic, it let out a low groan as it slid out of the way, revealing a small, dark, passageway.

“Can you tell the soldiers that silence is key here?” Byleth asked, glancing at Estelle. The queen nodded, repeating the command in Almyran to the soldiers, and Byleth let out a small sigh. “Thanks. I’ll entrust most of the command to you and your husband, since I don’t know any Almyran.”

“You leave the fighting to us,” Estelle replied. “I just want you to find Claude. If you’re as good as Claude says you are, then you’ll be able to find him in no time.”

Byleth’s lips quirked upwards, and she let out a sigh, drew her sword. The weight was familiar and comforting in her hands as she descended the steps into the secret passage, footsteps loud in the silence. Speaking would not be the problem here, but just all the noise echoing in the tunnel was what unnerved Byleth. What if someone heard the footsteps on the stone floor, the clanking of armor as they walked.

With each step, Byleth felt that spike of anticipation running up and down her spine once more, hair prickling on the back of her neck. The last time she felt like that was before Fort Merceus, when she and the soldiers had launched their little scheme. But this time, there was a sort of bristling… anger… underneath all of that, and a sort of fear to go with it, her mind focused on only two things. Where would Claude be, and would he be okay? She did have a clue as to where he might be, but it was an unbased claim, and there was no telling for certain whether or not she was right.

The minutes dragged on, the Almyrans talking behind her in hushed tones. If she wasn’t trying to curry favor with Claude’s hardass dad, she would tell Estelle to shush them. If she was to pull off this sneak attack without the guards noticing, silence would be key, and this passageway was too echoey to make her feel better. 

She needed to relax. So, taking in a deep breath, Byleth recalled the tune of an old song from her mercenary days, a song that Ikara, one of the mercenaries and Byleth's unofficial mother, sung to her all the time as a baby. The lyrics escaped her, they always did, but the melody of the song was soft, beautiful, and slow, brimming with a certain grace that she hadn't heard from a song in a while. Before a big battle, she always hummed that song, using it to settle any nerves she might have and sharpen her focus. 

Soon, Byleth felt a cold breeze, and she knew the end of the tunnel was coming up soon. As she suspected, the spotted the door a few footsteps later, and Byleth glanced over her shoulder at Claude’s parents.

“We’re here,” She said in a quiet voice, and the king turned and repeated the message to the soldiers. They quieted, and Byleth looked back to the door. She slinked ahead, tightening the grip on her sword, and ascended the steps. Pressing her ear to the door, making sure she didn’t hear voices on the other side. When she didn’t, she used the spell again, and once more, the door opened up with a groan. It had taken her a while to figure out it was magic-based, but perhaps that made it just that more secure.

For a few seconds, Byleth stood there, sword at the ready, in case the noise drew the attention of any soldiers. But when it didn’t, she relaxed ever-so-slightly and motioned for the soldiers and parents to follow her.

“I’ll let you two take care of the guards,” Byleth said to the two, glancing between them. “And if Seyed is really planning on killing you, then maybe don’t get yourselves killed. Retreat if you have to - I don't want to be responsible for the deaths of the King and Queen of Almyra." _Seteth would kill me if he found that out._

“You’re going to look for Claude?” Bahadur asked with a grunt. Byleth nodded.

“Uh-huh. Come if you want.”

With that, Byleth stepped out of the door, into a small, dark room covered in cobwebs and dust. The rest of the soldiers followed, the glow of a torch appearing a moment later. The air was musty, attacking Byleth’s nose, and she wondered what kind of room this was, and what it was used for. Storage or scraps, if she had to guess. Abyss had a scrap room that looked much like that.

It didn’t take long for the first soldiers to spot them. It happened basically the moment Byleth stepped out of the room into the hall, catching the attention of two guards down the hall. They made eye contact for a brief moment, then one of them shouted in Almyran. The fight had begun. Narrowing her eyes, Byleth dashed towards the guards, quick as a whip. One of them drew his own sword to meet Byleth’s, the steel of the blades clashing against one another.

Drawing her dagger from her pocket, she stabbed upwards, the dagger plunging into the man’s chest. He let out a cry, and fell just in time for Byleth to see the second guy raising an ax over her heard. Byleth rolled to the side, scrambling to her feet as the ax slammed onto the ground. The guard glared at her with the fury of a thousand suns as he swung again, and Byleth parried the move with her sword-holding hand. He was strong, nearly knocking Byleth off her feet with the momentum as he swung, but she held her ground, despite knowing very well he could break the sword if he wanted to.

Spinning the dagger, Byelth made a slash at the man’s hand, the blade cutting across his wrist and drawing fresh blood, red as rubies. He let out a shout, and Byleth’s arm snaked around his arm. With a grunt, she twisted his arm in the opposite direction of how it’s supposed to go, the ax landing with a clang at her feet.

With her sword-wielding hand, she stabbed forward at the guy, slashing across his chest. He let out a gurgled cry and dropped to his knees, and Byleth took a step back, sheathing the dagger, and looked behind her. By then, more guards had appeared, and were engaged in combat with the Almyran troops. Many of the guards, thank the gods, weren’t prepared for the surprise attack, and the soldiers easily cut their way through their ranks, splitting off into two groups. Just like Byleth had planned.

She heard shouting behind her, then, and Byleth froze, whipped around to see another group of guards heading her way. Narrowing her eyes, Byleth shifted into a stance, ready to fight, but then a moment later, Estelle and two other soldiers rushed by her.

“Let us do the fighting!” Estelle called as she easily took one of the guards to the ground. “Find Claude, before Seyed gets wind of this and he kills him.”

For a brief moment, Byleth paused, not wanting to leave the soldiers fighting by themselves. But it occurred to her that she couldn’t even give them orders without one of Claude’s parents translating. Besides, Estelle was right; if Seyed caught wind of this and got to Claude before one of them did, he could easily kill the schemer, then ditch the compound and run. That thought of that didn’t sit well with Byleth, a flash of anger running through her. So, trusting that the king and queen had enough sense to not get killed, Byelth rushed past the queen, taking down the soldiers in her way with practiced ease.

Of course, the problem was finding Claude. This compound was massive, about the size of the monastery, almost. Who knows how many doors and rooms Byleth had to look in and through before she could find him? And that didn’t count any other secret passageways this place was hiding. No wonder Seyed had chosen a place like this; even if it was attacked, there was just enough space and rooms for it to make it seem like a maze, to make it harder to find Claude. That pissed Byleth off.

 _Sothis… please, keep him safe just a little bit longer,_ Byleth thought to herself, reaching the end of the hall and taking a sharp left. _I’m going to find him, I promise. Just… keep him safe until I can._

Upon spotting a small delegation of guards at the end of this next hall, Byleth froze, before stepping into a small room on the side and slamming the doors shut. There didn’t appear to be a way to lock them, so she would have to go fast, before the guards decided to try their luck with a single, tiny girl. Then her eyes scanned the room, looking for a doorway that could lead her somewhere safe.

Byleth appeared to be in some sort of small library, with rows and rows of bookcases in the room, as well as a few tables and chairs. There was a door on the other side of the room, and Byleth darted towards it, throwing chairs and books behind her as she ran to gain some distance.

 _Where could Claude be?_ Byleth asked herself as she heard the doors banging open behind her, followed by shouting. Quickly, she glanced over her shoulder to see two of the guards burst into the room, and she narrowed her eyes.

Muttering an incantation under her breath, Byleth skidded to a stop and held up her hand, aiming towards the two guards. A magic ring appeared in front of her hand, another one appearing under the guards. Before they could move, bolganoe activated, easily taking down both of them, fire sizzling forth towards the guards. They screamed, and Byleth crinkled her nose at the smell of charred flesh. For as long as she lived, she would never get used to that smell.

Once they were taken care of, Byleth allowed herself a moment to breathe, and looked up, trying to think about where Claude could be. Would Seyed keep him tied up in some sort of dinky little room with no windows? Or would he take him to some sort of prison and chain him up, making escape virtually impossible? That last thought didn't sit well with her, and neither did the fact that that could very well be the situation there. But if that were true, then were would this prison-like area be? Downstairs, in a sub-basement, most likely, but that seemed a little too obvious.

 _If I captured the prince of a nation, where would I keep him?_ Byleth asked herself, looking around the room, keeping her ears out for any soldiers that may or may not come her way and find her in the library. _It had to be somewhere with easy access to the outside to an escape route, and far enough away from the fighting to allow easy escape. Likely some place with a hidden door, like the one we just used, leading to an abandoned building or tiny street._

Trying to recall the floor plan of the compound, Byleth rubbed her arm, looked around as she walked towards the next door. This place was fancy, looking very similar to noble estates in Fodlan. Since Seyed was a member of the royal family, that would make sense if it was some sort of royal estate, like the Goneril estate or Gautier estate. Big, with lots of rooms and fancy decorations. And if his place was built in a similar way to noble estates, there was one possible place Claude could be.

Narrowing her eyes, Byleth opened up the door, a single destination in mind; the prince’s room.

She found herself in another hallway and could hear shouting in the distance, but for right now, she paid it no mind. Even if she could understand a word that it meant, she wasn't focused on fighting, but instead focused on finding stairways. Like most of the noble estates she'd been to, Byleth assumed that Seyed's room would be at the top of the compound, although it wouldn't hurt to check other places, too. 

Gripping her sword, Byleth stepped out into the hallway to see more armed guards heading her way. She glanced right, then left, and spotted a staircase just past them, leading upwards. At the same time, the guards ran towards her, raising their weapons and pointing at her. One of them had a bow, an arrow nocked, and pointed straight at her, and Byleth narrowed her eyes.

There were three types of soldiers she hated with her entire being. The first was mages because it was hard to block or parry or dodge magic attacks. The second was armored knights because you couldn't just break through metal with a silver sword. The third was archers. Long-range, meant to pick at the enemy's health while front-line attackers kept them occupied. 

Determined to get rid of the archer as soon as possible, Byleth drew her dagger out, flicking her wrist in the archer's direction. The dagger shot forth from her hand, embedding itself in the archer's shoulder at the same time he fired. The arrow went wide and struck the soldier on Byleth's left, and he let out a cry, saying what Byleth could only assume to be a curse in Almyran. 

Quick as a whip, Byleth launched herself at the left-hand soldier, taking advantage of his sudden pain and confusion to slice his arm off in one fell swoop. The arm fell to the ground as the soldier let out a strangled cry, but Byleth quickly put him out of his misery and ran her sword through his chest. 

One of the soldiers - the one behind her, if she had to assume - said what sounded like a name in Almyran, and Byleth drew her sword from the man's chest. Then she spun on the ball of her foot and attacked the other soldier, ending his life with another quick flick of her wrist, sword cutting across his own leather breastplate. He let out a gurgled cry and crumpled to the ground. 

Something whistled by Byleth's arm, shredding the fabric there, and she turned to face the archer. He was looking at her with wide eyes, but they were brimming with a mixture of fear and anger as he said something to her as he lowered the bow. A plea, perhaps, or maybe he was begging for forgiveness, for her to let him go. But even if she could understand it, the plea fell on deaf ears as she stepped forward, the sword heavy and deadly in her hands.

Another swing of her sword. Another body crumpling to the ground. Another kill for the Ashen Demon. 

The stairs were left open, now, and there was shouting in the distance. Knowing it was only a matter of time before more soldiers came her way, Byleth grabbed her dagger and headed up the stairs, sword dripping with crimson-red blood. The man's untranslated plea rang in Byleth's ears, but she pushed it down as she sheathed her dagger with a smooth efficiency. 

After all, she was the Ashen Demon, and demons didn't show mercy to their enemies. Especially when they were trying to kill her friends.


	10. Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth finally finds Claude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just for reference, near the end of the chapter, whenever someone is speaking and in italics, they're speaking Almyran.

_**Red Wolf Moon, 11/20** _

_**Claude** _

Claude was getting sick of seeing the smirk on his cousin’s face whenever he entered the room.

Ever since they’d been kids, Seyed always had an air of smug self-assurance wherever he went, strutting around like _he_ was the prince, not Claude. It was part of the reason he hated his cousin - and, by extension, Lorenz and most of the other nobles in Fodlan. Acting like they were better than everyone else just because they had a fancy title and some money to throw around. And now that Seyed had kidnapped him - the one person standing between him and the throne - that air only grew worse.

But today, it seemed borderline close to victorious, the smile wicked and sharp, like a wolf's. The glint in his eyes, a glint hungry for power, a victor's glint, matched the jagged smile on his face. It sent shivers down Claude's spine, a prickle of dread creeping up it. He tried to keep his back straight, however, to not betray that sense of dread he felt hanging over him like stars. 

“I’m afraid our time together will be coming to a close, my dear cousin.” That was the first thing Seyed had said when he walked in, strolling over to the liquor cabinet at one end of the room. Claude watched him as he walked, picking out key points in his body language. Jutted chin, raised eyebrows, a swagger in his step, all signs of smugness. A group of men followed him, all looking at Claude with varying looks of smugness and disgust, contempt. His heart skipped a beat when he saw the weapons on them, including the ax strapped to his cousin's back. “From what I’ve gathered, it seems that my _aunt_ and _uncle_ will soon be moving to rescue you.”

“Really?” Claude asked, unable to keep a note of bitterness out of his tone. His mother was one thing, but his father was another. They didn't exactly have the best relationship, the two of them, despite the fact he was heir to Almyra.

Seyed nodded as he grabbed a glass and a drink, setting the ornamented glass down on the desk in front of him. The clunk of glass on wood echoed throughout the room. “Yes. My men have spotted a figure hanging out in the old watchtower nearby these past few nights, appearing to be observing the compound.”

“Maybe it’s just a bandit, looking to plunder an Almyran royal’s home,” Claude lied easily, though he’d be lying if he said the words didn’t put a spike of fear in his chest. Still, he wasn’t too particularly concerned about that (Or, at least, tried not to be). If it was a group of people, that’d be one thing. But a single person? Baseless rumors. Probably just a scout for some bandit group, thinking this place to be abandoned or hoping it to be abandoned. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Seyed replied, pouring himself a glass of whatever the hell he was drinking. After a moment, he set the bottle down and sauntered over to Claude, a grin splitting his face. “Either way, your time is coming to an end, soon. It won’t be long before your parents come busting down the door looking for you. It has been a week since your disappearance, after all.”

“Kill me, and you won’t have any leverage against my parents,” Claude said, narrowing his eyes, barely able to keep his next thoughts from slipping from his mouth. “Besides, it won’t be long before they have you captured or killed for kidnapping the prince. Even if they don’t care about me as much as they could, that’s still a capital offense.”

A wicked grin flashed on his cousin’s face, then, and Claude shifted, trying to ease the binds tying his hands together.

“Confident as ever, eh?” Seyed said, kneeling down a few feet from Claude, a small chuckle escaping his lips. “Heh. You still have those walls of yours up, Claude. It won’t be long, though, before they come crumbling down, and you’ll be begging for mercy. Even the best men can be broken.”

“The last thing I’m going to do is beg,” Claude said, narrowing his eyes, before giving an easy shrug, trying to not betray the fluttering of his heart in his chest. It would be a bad precedent to let his cousin think that he was in control. “Even though I had to fight and crawl and claw my way to get to where I am now, I’ve never once had to beg before. And I’m not going to start with you, of all people.”

“Just keep telling yourself that, cousin,” Seyed replied, before drowning his drink in one gulp. “But you’re useless without that fancy relic of yours, and your wits will only take you so far. Unlike me, you are lacking in one thing - friends." 

_I do have friends,_ Claude thought, silently, bitterly, as his cousin stood up and barked orders to his men. _They're all back in Fodlan, safe and happy, moving on with their lives. They probably don't even know I'm in Almyra. They probably don't know I've been kidnapped._

With that, Seyed and his men left, leaving Claude alone once more. Despite knowing it was useless, Claude narrowed his eyes, then let out a sigh, trying once more to yank his arms out of the ropes. As he suspected, though, it didn’t too much, just made the rope burns on his wrist burn even more. If he had a dagger or some sort of sharp object, he could easily escape the rope, but Seyed had taken any sharp objects off him when he was first kidnapped. But it had been a week, and if what his cousin was saying was true, then his parents would be there soon. Meaning he wouldn’t let him near anything he could use to escape any time soon.

Letting out a sigh, Claude rested his head on the wall behind him, closed his eyes, tried to think of anything schemes or plans to get him out of there. But nothing came to his mind, and after a week with no luck, his chances of escaping were running thin. If he was in Fodlan, back at the academy, he would expect the Deer or Teach or even the Knights to come to his rescue, to come busting down the door and capture Seyed and free him. But he wasn't in Fodlan, he was in Almyra, and everyone was back in Fodlan - he would have to get out himself, _somehow_. 

_Come on, Claude, think,_ he told himself, shaking his head and looking around. _He’s bound to slip up eventually. There’s gotta be something in here you could use. He just had to find something first._

* * *

Several hours had passed when Claude heard the door open once more. Opening up his eyes, he saw Seyed walking in once more, backed by a group of guards. Already, Claude could tell something was wrong. His eyes were burning with anger, and there was an urgency in his step as he paced the room, throwing his hands out as he looked to the side. His posture was tight, closed, hands balled into fists and jerking as he walked, chest thrust out like a bird.

“Something wrong, Seyed?” Claude asked as he barked some orders to the guards with him, sharp and hard. His cousin's head snapped in his direction, a spark in his eyes, and he glared at him.

“It appears your mother is smarter than she looks,” he hissed at him, a panicked flutter his voice, and Claude felt his heart skip a beat. Did that mean he was finally getting rescued? That spark of hope was quickly put out, though, and he strained his ears to hear for any sounds of fighting or wyverns. Nothing. Other than the mumble of the guards, the room was silent. 

Claude gulped, trying to keep his face impassive, the way Byleth always looked even when she wasn’t trying, as he watched his cousin. Seyed, meanwhile, started to pace the room, barking out orders to the guards with him. Along with that sense of... anger, perhaps, there was a sense of panic, too. Pacing, restlessness, short and jerky movements, slashing a hand through the air as if he were wielding an ax. Yeah, something was definitely going on out there, something big. He needed to get out, now.

“You may as just give up now,” Claude said, glancing to the door, before glaring at his cousin. “I don’t know what the hell is happening out there, but if I’m right, and what I think is happening is actually happening, then you’re not going to win this.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Seyed replied, and Claude felt a spark of fear jump up in his chest as Seyed unslung his ax from over his shoulder. He tried not to think of the glowing Relic Edelgard had, the one that moved of its own accord, one half of it snapping like teeth. Then a smirk, tight and stiff, crossed his cousin's face as he walked over to him, resting the blade of the ax on his palm. “But even if I do lose, I’m not going to miss the chance to finally beat you, cousin.”

“Like hell you will,” Claude shot back, trying to keep the shake out of his voice. Don't let Seyed get the upper hand in terms of emotion, the last thing he needed was a boost to his ego, an incentive to move and use that ax. “I’m not going to lose to someone like you. I’m not letting my dreams be shattered so easily.” If Grondor, if Edelgard's right-hand-man and literal embodiment of darkness Hubert, didn't kill him, then his smug cousin with an ego certainly wasn't.

Seyed let out a snort in response. “Try all you want, but these childish dreams are never going to come true,” he replied, and Claude narrowed his eyes. “Almyra and Fodlan have been at each other’s neck since their founding. What makes you think a few years as a ruler can do?”

“It’s worth a damn shot,” Claude hissed at him, the fear being replaced by venom. “If I didn’t think that I had a shot of doing something to fix this hate between Fodlaners and Almyrans, then I wouldn’t have clawed my way up here and almost died in a war to do so. I’m going to do something about it, and you’re not going to stop it. You didn't have to spend your whole life hated for being half-Fodlanese, didn't have to live with the fact someone may try to kill you at every turn. I'm getting out of here, and I'm going to make sure nothing like this happens to anyone like me again.”

“And yet I’m the one with the ax,” Seyed replied, smugness dripping from his voice. Claude gulped, tried to keep his fear from showing. But he could feel it pulsing at his chest, fast and fluttering, like a bird trying to escape a cage. Seyed was planning on killing him, and if someone didn’t bust through that door right now, he’d do it. All his dreams, all his ambitions… just gone, in the blink of an eye. 

“Wouldn’t it be more valuable to take me as a hostage?” Claude asked, hating the waver in his voice, giving a smile that felt far too shaky for him to be comfortable. His chest felt tight, stomach dropping. “Killing me will only make my parents angrier, you know. They'll hunt you to the ends of the Earth to find you.”

“Is that begging I hear?”

“I already told you, the last thing I’m going to do is beg to you,” Claude replied, baring his teeth in a snarl. He shifted, trying to make a last-ditch attempt to get rid of the binds, to wriggle his hands out so he could punch or grab or something. They still held fast, though, making that fluttering in his chest beat faster, and he fought to gain control of his breathing.

“Hmm… a shame,” Seyed drawled, resting the ax on the ground, and it took all the willpower in Claude to not glance at it. “I’d love to test that theory, but I’m afraid I’m running out of time.”

So Claude was right. Someone _was_ coming to save him. But would he be alive when they found him? He needed to stall.

“Test that theory all you want, I’m still not begging.”

“Stalling, eh?” His cousin said, a wicked smirk crossing his face, looking down at him. “A pathetic attempt, Claude, and it’s not going to work. This is where we part, cousin.”

Seyed raised the ax, pressing the tip of it to Claude’s neck, cold as death, and that sent a ripple of fear down his spine, mind racing.

 _No, no, no. He couldn’t die here, not now. Not when he still had so much to do and ambitions to achieve and people to see. He wasn’t going to die here, not now - he couldn't, he couldn't die, not like this._ Was this what Dimitri felt in his last moments, facing Edelgard? He needed to move, to run, to stall, to get out, but his legs weren’t listening to-

Then, a cry of pain, startling Claude out of his spiral. A moment later, the ax collapsed to the ground next to Claude, the sound echoing throughout the tiny room. Seyed shouted, and Claude looked up at him, saw him turning around, clutching one hand. His own breath came out weak and fluttering as he fought to gain control of his chest and lungs and mind.

 _“Who.... who the hell are you?!”_ His cousin shouted, and Claude felt another spark of hope in his chest, bursting and bright, nestled between his heart and his ribcage. Someone was there, to rescue him. Taking in a shaky breath, Claude leaned to the side and peered around his cousin, trying to see whoever it was that saved him. Then, that spark of hope grew, swelling up inside his chest, and a grin broke out on his face, a genuine one, panicked and weak, but there.

Out of all the people in the world, and Byleth just happened to be the one standing there.

For a moment, Claude just started at Byleth, trying to make sure it was actually her, and not some vivid hallucination or dream. But she was there, dressed in Almyran silks, with her hair pulled up in a ponytail shockingly similar to Felix's. Her sword was drawn, already dripping red with blood, as were her arms, face, and various other body parts. Her eyes were narrowed, stone-cold and furious, a splatter of blood on her cheek. For a moment, she didn't look like Byleth, but rather the Ashen Demon. Was it normal to be so happy at seeing someone covered in blood?

Then, despite himself, Claude started to laugh.

All of the fear and anxiety and anger that had been bubbling up in his chest since his capture bubbling up his chest and escaping in a bout of hysteria, shoulders shaking with relief as he tipped his head up towards the sky. He was safe, alive, rescued. A moment later, he felt Seyed’s hand flash across his face, burning hot, sending him flying to the side, but he still laughed. He had seen Byleth fight; not even Seyed, as skilled as he was, could beat her. Claude was sure of it. 

_“What are you laughing at, Claude?”_ Seyed roared at him, and Claude smirked, the fear in his chest unwinding as he looked up at his cousin.

 _“You should give up now, Seyed,”_ Claude said, before glancing to Byleth. None of the guards with Seyed were moving near here, waiting for orders from him. He winked at her, then looked back to his cousin. _“No matter how hard you try, you’re not going to beat Teach.”_

Seyed narrowed his eyes at him, then looked back to Byleth, picking the ax up from the ground. Claude noticed how his hand appeared to be burnt, almost, though it was hard to tell from that position. He took a step towards Byleth, then, setting the blade of the ax on his hand.

“Teach, eh?” His cousin said, switching to a half-broken Fodlanese accent. “You must be the Fodlander my cousin talks so dearly about.”

“Claude, are you okay?” Byleth asked, ignoring his cousin. Her eyes flicked towards Claude, switching from quiet fury to concern, lips quirking downwards. It was not unlike the look she had after Ashe's adoptive father was killed, or like the look, he saw in the other students in the month after her dad died. He gave a nod, hoping to ease any fear or unease Byleth was feeling.

“I’m fine… better now, actually, since you’re here.” Then he frowned, wondering what the hell she _was_ doing there in the first place. Just being in Almyra was one thing, but actually being here and rescuing him? That was different. No, he could dwell on that later, once she beat Seyed and he was actually safe. Perhaps it was a miracle of the Goddess or the gods of fortune, like the first night they met, when she saved him and the other heirs from the bandits.

“Good. There’s a small band of soldiers working their way through… whatever the hell this place is,” she said, her eyes darting around the compound, before resting back on Seyed. Claude blinked.

“My parents are here?” he asked, and Byleth nodded. A prickle of unease fluttered about in his chest. Byleth meeting his mom and dad... how did that meet and conversation go? How did she even find them, anyway? His fahe

“Your father seems _exactly_ the kind of guy who would tie you to a horse and drag you along with it,” She replied, a smile quirking on her face, there and then gone, and Claude resisted the urge to let out a groan. Then she shifted into a stance, raising her sword. “We can catch up later.”

 _“What are you waiting for, fools?! Go after her!”_ His cousin barked, switching to Almyran once more. Claude shook his head.

A death sentence. She was going to cut them down.

* * *  
 **Byleth**

It had been pure luck she found Claude when she did. Just mere seconds later, and she might not have made it.

She had only just barely been able to fire off a magic spell before Seyed killed Claude, the ax clattering to the ground as Seyed howled in pain. A moment later, Seyed turned around, fire burning in his eyes as they landed on her. He said something in Almyran, and Byleth could only guess as to what it meant; who she was.

Claude’s head poked out from behind Seyed a moment later, and Byleth could feel a warmth in her chest when she saw the grin that broke his face. Lorenz was right - five years had changed him, too. He had a small beard going on, and the braid was gone, his once-tousled hair somewhat combed back. (she blamed a week's worth of captivity did that to him) He also filled out in the shoulders, too. For a moment, they stared at one another, Byleth letting out a sigh of relief. Then, Claude had started laughing, shoulders shaking as he did so.

That warmth was quickly replaced by a flash of anger when Seyed backhanded Claude, sending him falling to the side, and she gripped her sword tighter. Claude had once told her about how he wasn’t well-liked in both Fodlan and Almyra, just because of his mixed blood, and it never sat well with her. She wasn’t going to let anyone treat him like this, family or not. A part of Byleth knew all too well what being treated differently felt like. 

~~_She tried not to think about Rhea, about the unbeating Crest Stone in her chest that replaced her heart, about the soft, motherly smile Rhea always had when she looked at her. Tried not to think about how she was meant to be used as a scapegoat, a sacrifice, a lamb to the slaughter. Tried not to think about Sothis, the Goddess, her friend, the one Rhea tried to bring back by sacrificing her._ ~~

Seyed barked something in Almyran to Claude, who finally ceased his laughter, looked up at her, and winked that familiar wink of his. Then he looked at his cousin and replied in Almyran, and Byleth let out a frustrated grunt. If only she knew Almyran. Then she glanced around, waiting for one of the guards with Seyed to attack her.

“Teach, eh?” Seyed said in Fodlandian, though it was wrought with a thick Almyran accent, like Claude’s father. He took a step towards Byleth, and she narrowed her eyes. “You must be the Fodlander my cousin talks so dearly about.”

How many people in Claude’s family knew about her? Surely she wasn’t that popular; she was just a mercenary and a Fodlani mercenary who worked in Fodlan, never in Almyra, at that. Just because she was the Archbishop now didn't mean people all over the world knew her. Meanwhile, Claude was apparently a prince of Almyra, not to mention the former (and missing) leader of the Leicester Alliance. If there was anyone here who was easily recognizable, it would be him.

“Claude, you alright?” She asked him, and he nodded in response.

“I’m fine,” he said, and from what she could see, it appeared to be that way. She didn’t see any injuries, aside from a small line of blood at his neck - a line that made a bout of fury and fear rise up in her chest - and the mark forming where Seyed had backhanded him. “Better, now, actually, since you’re here.”

“Good,” she replied. “There’s a small band of soldiers working their way through… whatever the hell this place is,” she continued, glancing around the large room. Based on the massive bed to the right, pressed against the wall, Seyed's room, if she had to guess, when he wasn't kidnapping his cousins.

“My parents are here?” Claude asked, a hint of surprise in his voice as he straightened up. 

“Your father seems _exactly_ the kind of guy who would tie you to a horse and drag you along with it,” she told him, unable to keep a smile from forming on her face. He let out a groan and rested his head on the wall behind him, and Byleth raised her sword, poising it in front of her. “We can catch up later.”

First, she had to beat this guy’s ass.


	11. Dueling Royals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth and Seyed agree to a duel: If Byleth wins, Seyed will surrender. If Byleth loses, both she and Claude lose their lives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, sorry it's taken me so long to get this up, but I just haven't the time to actually write and edit this - I'm really busy. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Seyed said something else in Almyran, pointing at one of the guards near him. Byleth narrowed her eyes, shifted, and looked around. There were only about four guards, so they would be easy to take down. But she didn’t quite know how skilled they were, so she had to be careful. Hopefully, though, they weren't as good as the soldiers she had fought during the war. 

Two of the guards moved at her at the same time, yelling in Almyran, one of them raising an ax and another brandishing a sword. Byleth glanced between the two, before drawing the dagger at her hip. With a quick snap of her wrist, she launched the dagger towards the chest of the ax-wielding bandit, a familiar move, and one of the first moves she learned to do with a dagger.

The knife flew from her hand, embedding itself in the chest of the ax-wielder, puncturing the thin breastplate he wore. Byleth moved quickly, twirling out of the way of the sword headed in her direction and stepping behind the guard. Grabbing his shoulder, she aimed for the exposed area between his helmet and chest plate, running her sword through the hole and into his neck. He let out a gurgled cry and collapsed.

Shoving the bandit away, she turned towards the other two, who were now looking between each other and her. Narrowing her eyes, she took a step towards them, hoping to scare them off as she raised her sword. Once more, Seyed barked out some sort of order at them, throwing his hand out as his eyes narrowed. For a few seconds, neither of the soldiers moved, in a half-ready stance. 

Then, one of the soldiers - brave or dumb - took a step forward, before moving at a run towards her, a snarl crossing his face as he shouted something indecipherable but probably not nice or kind. Byleth sighed, readying her sword. He ran towards her, brandishing a sword, which glinted in the sunlight that poured in from the window. He slashed out at Byleth in an arch, but she parried the attack easily.

Byleth pushed the soldier away, the sword reverberating as the soldier slid backward. Before he could have a moment to attack, Byleth charged towards him, narrowing her eyes as she drove her sword forward. The bandit ducked away from his attack, her sword glancing off the armor plate at his shoulder. 

She gritted her teeth, her eyes darting towards Seyed and Claude to make sure the former wasn't trying anything to hurt Claude. But he seemed to have forgotten about Claude, his eyes focusing on Byleth and the soldiers as he said more stuff in Almyran.

A cry brought Byleth back into the present, and she gritted her teeth when the soldier's sword cut across her cheek, hot and wet. Byleth turned her attention back to the soldier as he leaped forward, brandishing his sword.

She blocked his next attack, the strength of it sending pins and needles down her arm. Byleth took a step back, before raising her arm as she muttered an incantation under her breath. Arcane runes swirled around her hand as she raised it up, casting a bolganoe towards the soldier. Fire spurt forth from her hand and flew towards the soldier, and he tried to dodge, but her magic was too fast. 

The soldier let out as a cry as the fire scorched his skin, and Byleth took the opportunity to rush forward, slashing with her sword across his chest. Crimson red blood arched out from his chest, splattering some of it on her cheek, and he dropped to the ground like a stone. Narrowing her eyes, Byleth turned towards the last soldier, raising her sword. Blood dripped off the blade as more arcane runes circled her hand, magic coursing through her veins.

That seemed to knock some sense into the last one, and he turned tail and fled. When he did, Byleth watched him leave, her gaze darting towards Seyed, before she lowered her hand and walked over to the first guard. She drew her dagger from his chest, wiped it on her trousers, sheathed it, and looked back to Seyed. Even from here, she could see the smirk on Claude’s face, and the furious expression on Seyed’s face.

“Why you…” he grumbled, switching to Almyran halfway through. "Using magic... how cowardly. You don't have the guts to face your enemies with nothing but your mere blade and wits. But I suppose that should be expected from Fodlanders like you."

"Cute, considering how I spent the last twelve years of my life using a sword to cut down my enemies as the Ashen Demon," Byleth replied calmly, flicking her blood off her sword, not bothering to wipe the blood off her face. She was known as the Ashen Demon long before she was known as the Archbishop of Fodlan, and she had spent her life cutting down her enemies without a care about any of the blood on her face or clothes. 

Seyed's eyes widened, briefly - he must've heard the name somewhere before. If this trend of Claude telling everyone who she was continued, then Claude, probably. But it wouldn't be surprising, considering how just about everyone in Fodlan knew of her name; it would make sense that people heard it outside of Fodlan, too. Then, she narrowed her eyes and took a step towards him, brandishing her sword.

“I’ll give you one chance to let Claude go,” she hissed at him, glancing at Claude, back to Seyed. Byleth knew it was probably better to refrain from killing an Almyran royal - especially as the new Archbishop - but hopefully Claude and his parents could smooth things over with Seteth. 

Seyed narrowed his eyes, took a step forward, tapping his ax on his hand. It was almost unsettling, how much of his gaze looked like Claude when he thought. Byleth could see the gears turning in his head as he looked around, probably looking for an escape route. Not likely, however. Then, a wicked grin crossed his face as he took a step forward, sharp as a wolf. 

“How about a deal?” Seyed asked her, quirking a brow up, the corner of his lip quirking up as well. “A duel, to be exact. You win, and I surrender. You lose, and you both die.”

Byleth lowered her sword, glanced at Claude. He gave a wink her, mouthed the words _You got this._

“Fine,” she said, blinking, and raising her sword again.

“It’s best that you give up now, cousin,” Claude said, his emerald-green gaze flicking from Byleth to Seyed, a coy expression tugging on his own lips. “No matter how much you try, you won’t beat Teach.”

Seyed glanced over his shoulder, raising a brow in skepticism. “Oh, I bet I will,” he drawled lazily, before looking back to her, anger burning in his dark brown eyes, brown as coffee or tea. “Fodlanders are weak. I’m sure your precious ' _Teach_ ' won’t be any different.”

She spared a glance at Claude, saw the way he bristled when Seyed said her name, eyes narrowing as the gleam in his eyes flickered. She didn't blame him - Byleth didn't like it when anyone but Claude called her that, for whatever reason. Then, she looked back up at Seyed, nodded as she shifted into a stance.

"I accept. But I should have you know, I am known as the Ashen Demon for a reason. Beating me will be no easy feet."

If a living dragon couldn't kill her, then some punk with a sword and an ego couldn't. 

After a moment’s pause, Seyed charged towards Byleth, brandishing his ax. He lashed out at her, but Byleth blocked it, sending more pins and needles up her arm, and was briefly surprised at his strength. Seyed was tall and skinny, not having the stature that neither Claude nor his dad did. He had the same wiry frame Claude had five years ago, lean and scrawny, like a cat. 

Byleth moved back from him, slashing out. Seyed blocked it, her sword bouncing off his ax, sending needles up Byleth’s arm, and she narrowed her eyes, rolled to the side as Seyed lashed out at her with his ax.

Quickly, Byleth scrambled to her feet, parrying his next attack, before murmuring an incantation under her breath. Seyed charged at her once again, and Byleth threw her hand out, an arcane appearing in front of her hand.

A fireball shot out from it a moment later, but Seyed was faster than she expected him to be, holding his axe up to block it. The fireball slammed against the steel of the axe, not strong enough to burn through but strong enough to sizzle and knock him back a step. Byleth took advantage of his distraction, seeing an opening. She drew her knife, flicked her wrist. 

The blade of the knife lodged itself in Seyed’s shoulder, and he let out a hiss. He narrowed his eyes and yanked the knife out of his shoulder, a snarl crossing his face. Byleth wanted to sigh; what kind of idiot took the knife out of their shoulder? It was the only thing keeping the blood from dripping out. 

Well, at least it was an advantage on her part.

Seyed charged Byleth again, swinging his ax through the air in an arc motion, faster than Byleth expected him to be. Byleth was only fast enough to block it, but the force and suddenness of it were enough to knock it out of her hands.

The sword was sent flying to the side, clattering on the ground, and Byleth moved on instinct as Seyed lashed out at her again, shouting in Almyran. She dropped to the ground and rolled to the side, the impact of hitting the ground jostling her shoulder.

Quickly, Byleth narrowed her eyes as she scrambled back to her feet, her cheek burning. Seyed grinned. It was a wicked kind of grin, the kind of grin that Hubert and Kronya and Thales had. She glanced at her sword, briefly - Seyed stepped between it and Byleth - then back to Seyed as he moved. She wouldn’t let herself get distracted, not now. 

“You are strong,” Seyed said as Byleth took in measured breaths to try and control her breathing. She, after all, had been fighting for a while now, while Seyed hadn't done much of anything aside from threatening her friends. “But not strong enough. Like the rest of Fodlan, you are weak compared to us Almyrans.”

“Teach-” Claude started, a slight shake in his voice as he looked at her with worry in his emerald eyes.

“I got this, Claude,” She told him, feeling the pulsing of the Sword of the Creator on her back. A call for her, to use it, to use its - Sothis - power. “Trust me.”

“How do you have this, exactly?” Seyed asked, glancing over his shoulder at Claude, then back to Byleth. His eyes were burning with a hunger for victory. She had seen it before, in poker players about to win the hand, in soldiers unafraid of dying. In Edelgard's striking-lavender eyes as she faced the bandit leader the first night they met, when she fought with her classmates during the mock battle five years ago. As she looked up at her former Professor, defeated but still unyielding. “You are unarmed, and just because you have magic doesn't mean you can beat me. Do you honestly think I’ll let you get your sword that easily?”

“Do you honestly think I brought only one sword with me?”

Byleth saw Seyed’s face slip, just briefly, there and then gone. Then, he rested his axe on his shoulder, eyes glinting once more. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a smirk break out on Claude’s face, knowing he was thinking the same thing she was. The Sword of the Creator. Her gift from Rhea - Serios - given to her all those moons ago, wielded only by herself and the ancient King of Liberation. 

Then, she saw Seyed charging towards her, swinging his ax. Byleth narrowed her eyes and drew the Sword of the Creator out from its sheath.

Quick as a whip, she parried his attack, feeling a rush of adrenaline rush through her veins when her sword clashed against his ax. The movement was familiar and comforting, the Sword of the Creator acting as an extended version of her arm. For all intents and purposes, it was. Seyed’s eyes widened in surprise, and Byleth gave a shove, pushing Seyed back. Her sword glowed orange, the hilt pulsing in her hand, warm as blood.

A low growl escaped Seyed’s throat as he stepped back, eyes narrowing and burning with a mix of fear and contempt. He glanced over at Claude, then at Byleth, lips turning upwards into a snarl.

“An orange sword… Claude told us about weapons like that,” Seyed hissed, looking down at his own ax, then back up to her. “Hero’s Relics… powerful weapons only those in Fodlan can use. Sounds like something I’d like to try.”

The memory of Miklan turning into a Black Beast flashed in her mind. The utter agony of his screams as he transformed. The enraged growl of his transformed himself as he attempted to kill her students. The goop that melted onto the floor after his defeat, the body of Miklan covered in black goop, eyes glassy, the Crest of Gautier seared into the skin at his hand were he held the lance. She narrowed her eyes, tightened the grip on her sword. It hummed, as if in response to her memory.

“Do that, and you’ll turn into a literal monster,” Byleth hissed, his screams still echoing in her ears.

 ~~ _She tried not to think of the Demonic Beasts at the Chapel, the ones who drew her and her father out, where Monica, her own student killed him. She tried not to think of the Beast that appeared when Alefric fused with the defiled body of her_~~ mother ~~ _, for gods' sake, in his twisted attempt to bring her mother back. Tried not to think of the white dragon that was Rhea after she transformed, calling for her mother - for Sothis - to come back._~~

“These things kill if you don’t have the right Crest, or don’t even have a Crest at all. And it's a painful, slow death.”

“She’s right,” Claude called out from where he sat. “It’s exactly the reason I won’t let anyone touch Failnaught.”

“I don’t care,” Seyed snapped back, taking a step forward. “I’m not going to let my meddlesome half-breed cousin have a fancy weapon while I don’t.”

Byleth narrowed her eyes as Claude bristled once more, glaring at his cousin. She activated the whip function of her sword and slashed out towards Seyed. The segments of it clicked as it separated, orange as a sunrise.

He was caught off-guard - probably because of the whip - and was only just fast enough to avoid having it take his head off. Instead, the teeth of the sword dug into his collarbone, leaving a bloody gash.

Seyed hissed, taking a step back as he pressed one hand to his collarbone, wheezing. The sword folds itself back together, a small force against her hand each time one of the sections stopped folding back into its original form. It’s a grotesque sound, clattering like teeth, perfect to fit a grotesque sword, one that she used to kill her old student.

The memory flashes in her mind again, of the bloodied tip, of Edelgard’s body laying in front of her, white hair smattered with crimson red. Then, she recollects herself, forcing herself back into the present battle. That war is over. Claude, at least, came out alive, even if she failed Edelgard, failed Dimitri. And if Byleth doesn’t focus now, he may not come out of this one.

Lunging towards Seyed, Byleth strikes out at him, aiming towards his legs. If she could render him immobile, she was practically guaranteed the victory. Seyed was just quick enough to dodge most of the attack, save one of the teeth making a small mark in his leg.

Then, Byleth feels a pain in her arm, white-hot and burning, as the tip of his axe wedges itself between the gap in her armor. Byleth scrambled away from him, just barely avoiding his next attack. Adrenaline is running through her, her pulse thrumming in her neck, and when she adjusts her grip on the sword, it pulses in tune. _An ugly thing,_ she thinks.

But Byleth refuses to let Seyed win. So she presses the advantage, reaching deep inside herself for all the strength she had, her moves fast and strong. It was as if, after drawing out the Sword of the Creator, she's become stronger, using her connection to Sothis to fight. Seyed isn’t fast enough to block every attack, and once, twice, three times does she make some sort of slash or mark on him, until she finally sweeps his legs out from under him.

Seyed collapses, and Byleth presses the tip of the sword against his neck, the sword creaking in response. Seyed stills, groaning, jaw clenched, and his brown eyes burning up with hatred and contempt.

“Yield,” She demands, her body itching to get to Claude and see if he’s alright. But Byleth forces herself to stay, lest it be enough for Seyed to gain the upper hand and win. Seyed narrowed his eyes, mutters something in Almyran, and although she can’t know what he’s saying, she knows that it isn’t a good thing. Or, at the very least, nice.

His gaze flickers to the ax, fingers twitching on the handle. Byleth nudges the sword, once more, drawing a small bead of blood from his neck. Her hand is wet and warm from where she has it pressed against his injured shoulder, sluggishly leaking blood. A warning.

If Seyed notices, he doesn’t care. He grunts as he attempts to lift the ax up, but Byleth is faster. She hits him with the blunt end of her sword as hard as she can, leaving a small gash in his head, the ax slipping out of his grip. Seyed's head falls back to the ground, eyes rolling up in his head.

For a moment, Byleth waits for him to be faking it, for him to make a move. When he doesn’t, she stands up and lets go of his shirt. Steps back, sheathes her bloody sword, and turns to Claude. Gleaming emerald-green eyes land on calm mint-green ones. A crooked smile appears on his face, and Byleth rushes over to him as he lets out a sigh of relief, shoulders slumping.

“Claude, you okay?” She asks him, feeling a spark of relief in her chest, warm and bubbling as she dashes over to him. Her sword clatters as it hits the floor when she drops to her knees, already drawing her dagger out once more to cut through his nope. Based on the look in his eyes, Byleth could tell that he was feeling the same.

“I’m alright, Teach,” he said, a light chuckle in his voice as he shifted, turning his body so his hands faced Byleth better. “Excellent timing, as always.”

“I have a gift, apparently,” she mused, before taking her dagger and cutting through the ropes binding his hands together, the rope going slack in her hands. Claude let out a sigh in relief as he lifts his hands up, rubbing at the rope burns on his wrist. “Glad I got here in time.”

“Me too,” Claude replied, the laughter being replaced with a slight tremor. “Looks as if the gods of fortune were smiling at me once more. Just seconds later, and...” he trailed off, a shudder running down his spine as he closed his eyes. The smile dropped from his face, too, before glancing up to Byleth, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. “Though I am _very_ curious as to what the hell you’re doing here.”

“It’s... a long story. But it appears we both have questions for each other,” Byleth said, before frowning at the small mark on his face. “Let’s worry about that later, though. For now, we should just get settled.”

“You should get yourself healed up, too,” Claude adds with a pointed glance at her arm and cheek. Now that the rush of battle was fading, Byleth was starting to feel the buzzing pain from the gash on her wound, the blood ruby red and warm. She frowned, gently put one hand on it to keep it from bleeding too much. The cut on her cheek was a bit better, if throbbing, sluggishly dripping down her cheek.

“What about you? Any injuries?” 

“No, not really,” Claude said, before standing up. He swayed, briefly, and Byleth shot to her feet, put a hand on his shoulder to steady him, and she could feel the muscles under his sleeve. Claude grunted, putting one on her shoulder. “Ugh, just a little hungry. The food wasn’t exactly edible. Even the food in the dining hall was better than what I got here. Stars, a plate of chicken sounds delicious right now.”

“Sorry I don’t have anything,” she replied, then glanced to Seyed, still unconscious on the ground, a small puddle of blood forming around him where Byleth had slashed his collarbone and shoulder and leg and arm. “What do you want to do with him?”

Claude spared a glance at his cousin, a dark glint twinkling in his emerald-green eyes, there and then gone. But Byleth could see enough to know it wasn't a good glint, a kind glint, but dark and dangerous. The gleam of a schemer. Then he sighed, rubbed the back of his neck. 

“I’ll worry about him later,” he said quietly. “For now, I just want to eat and take a bath, and catch up. My dad can handle him.” Then he glanced at her, a shaky smile on his face. “Heh… well, this is one hell of a way to reunite, eh, Teach?”

“Better than the reunion I had with Edelgard,” she mused quietly. Even now, she still feel the cold steel of her blade against her throat after she first met with her former student after her five-year slumber. (Tried not to think about the sword that she had was the same one Rhea used in her dream at the Tailtean Plains all that time ago). The smile on his face dropped, and he looked at the Sword of the Creator, still in its sheath. 

“Figured that,” he muttered silently, voice a quiet rumble, before he spared a glance to Seyed - or, more correctly - the axe that was on the ground next to him, before using his other hand to rub the neck. His Adam's Apple bobbed as he gulped. “Thank the stars you came when you did… this could’ve been a lot worse.”

“I’m getting tired of all these close calls,” Byleth muttered, more to herself than him, shaking her head. “I’m glad you’re safe, though.”

A wink was shot her way, and he rubbed his free hand through his hair. Even that was different in a way, now slicked back instead of being the tousle that it used to be five years ago. After seeing the other students, she had come to accept that five years had indeed past. 

But seeing Claude, with a chiseled jaw and a beard and a stray strand of hair in the place of his braid… she suddenly found it hard to accept that five years had actually passed, more so for his case. She could still clearly picture the boy with a charming smile on his face talking strategy and Crests over tea. It was an odd look on him, compared to his hairdo from five years ago, but still better than Lorenz.

(A part of Byleth admitted that it made him more handsome, with the beard and filled-out shoulders. Not that she would ever tell anyone else.)

“Teach?” Claude’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts, and Byleth blinked, shook her head. Claude was looking at her, a mixture of confusion and concern in his eyes. “You okay?”

“Sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m just… reminiscing, that’s all.”

“I suppose it has been almost six years since we last saw each other, hasn’t it?” Claude mused, his Adam’s Apple bobbing, before he glanced at her with a smile. “In that case, let’s reunite over some Almyran Pine Tea, hmm? My treat, as thanks for saving my sorry ass again.”

Byleth nodded, closing her eyes. "That sounds nice," she replied. Claude chuckled.


	12. The Palace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth and Claude get to the palace, and after some talking, travel through some secret tunnels and chat

_**Red Wolf Moon, 11/20** _   
_**Byleth** _

If there was one word Byleth had to use to describe the Almyran palace, it was fancy. Far fancier than any place she’d seen in Fodlan, at least, aside from possibly the palace in Enbarr. And like the rest of the city, it was decidedly busy and crowded, though Byleth doubted it was crowded for the same reasons Garreg Mach was.

The grounds were rather large, but mostly barren of the grass and brush that the monastery had. It made up for it, though, with thick walls and towers about as large as the towers at Garreg Mach. Ornate windows are scattered generously around the front of the palace, as well as many crenelations for archers and artillery. If Byleth strained, she could see the distant, shadowy figures of archers and mages.

Practically the moment she set foot in there, she and Claude had been bombarded with people, the inhabitants chattering amongst themselves and Claude. He still had a hand on her shoulder, probably so they weren’t separated, and Byleth could see the weariness in the face.

Clearly, the past five years had affected him, too, probably from leading the Alliance and then this. She wondered, briefly, if she looked the same. After all, she went from being a renowned mercenary to a professor to a war commander to the Archbishop of Fodlan in the span of seven years, although for Byleth, it was more like… two and a half. Between all that, the stress of her new job, and the occasional nightmares she got, it was hard to get a good, full night of sleep.

Thankfully, they had gotten a smaller, more private room for the two of them and Estelle, who sustained a rather nasty-looking leg wound during the battle. From what Byleth could see, it wasn’t deadly, but deep enough to scar, although she could see a few faded scars on the rest of her arms and legs. Byleth had stayed silent throughout her checkup since she didn’t speak a word of Almyran and Estelle and Claude seemed to be getting close to a shouting match. If she had to wager a guess, she would think it was either about what to do with Seyed, something about him getting kidnapped in the first place, or her.

Eventually, the healers had left, though Byleth noticed with some annoyance how they weren’t as good as many of the healers in Fodlan. The wound still stung, slightly, and the magic had hastily and sloppily stitched it up. Even her own magic was neater and cleaner than that. It was only once the healers had gone did Claude switch back to Fodlanese as he let out a long-suffering sigh and put his head in his hands.

“I’ll take care of it, I promise,” he said with a groan. “Just… I need to talk to Byleth, first. Besides, he’s probably still unconscious, with the way Byleth knocked him out.”

“I saw,” Estelle said simply, voice full of vigor despite the hastily-bandaged wound in her leg, the bandages peeking out from under the cuff of her pants. Green, Byleth mused. Not a color she would’ve expected, but still somehow pulled off really well. “But your aunt and uncle won’t be happy.”

“Since when have they been happy about me?” Claude asked, a bare hint of bitterness in his voice as he looked up. “Besides, if they don’t like it, they can leave.” He muttered something under his breath, quiet enough that only Byleth could hear him since she was sitting right next to him. “Seyed probably did it at their request.”

“Do you want me to handle it?” Estelle asked.

“What I want is for people to not hate us because of our Fodlanese blood, but I don’t see that happening anytime soon.”

“And if you let something like this happen again, it won’t ever happen,” Estelle simply replied.

“I made one mistake,” Claude said, letting out a sigh and shaking his head. “I mean, it’s not like the first time something like this has happened, and I’m still here.”

Estelle opened her mouth to reply, but Byleth cut her off before she got the chance too. At this point, she had been waiting for answers and explanations for far too long, and she wanted to figure out what the hell happened, not listen to him argue with his mom about Seyed.

“It was a mistake, and it’s over now,” Byleth said simply, what little was left of her patience wearing thin. Right now, Estelle didn’t know she was the Archbishop, so she could drop her whole queen act and go back to being Byleth the mercenary. Blunt, straightforward and done with everyone’s bullshit. Though she would have to keep up some form of respect; even she wasn’t crass enough to anger the queen. “And, if you don’t mind, I’d like a moment to talk with Claude. Alone.”

Claude didn’t say anything, but Byleth saw the wink he shot her out of the corner of his eyes, the way his lips curved upwards in a smirk. Estelle regarded the two of them, before sighing and standing up.

“Fine. You have until your aunt and uncle get here. I’m going to talk to your father,” Estelle said, wincing when she put her wait on her leg. Claude noticed, too, and probably said something in kind in Almyran. But Estelle waved him off. “I’m fine,” -more words in Almyran, and Byleth could only guess as to what it means.

“Do not worry about me. I can take care of myself,” She continued, before a cocky grin crossed her face, all too similar to the one Caspar and Petra had. “It’s just a flesh wound.”

He responded in Almyran, shaking his head and putting his head in his hands, and Byleth frowned. She shook her head and leaned back, resting her head against the wall behind her. Oh, if only the power of the Goddess had gifted her with the ability to speak any language, she’d be golden. Estelle seemed to notice that, finishing their conversation before walking off, leaving the two of them alone.

When the door closed, Byleth leaned forward and pulled Claude into a hug.

Truth was, she didn’t know why she hugged him. Perhaps it was because she had lost Dimitri and Edelgard, and had almost lost him, too. Perhaps it was because she left him to fend off Edelgard - her student - while she took a nap at the bottom of a cliff. Perhaps it was because any number of reasons, ones she couldn’t explain right now.

Byleth felt Claude tense up under her arms, probably surprised at her sudden act of kindness. Then, a light laugh escaped him as he returned it, quickly.

“Miss me that much, Teach?” He asked in a light voice, though there was a certain tenseness to it, his smile tight-lipped and still not reaching his eyes. “I’m honored you came all the way out here to see me.” Then the smile fell, and he tilted his head, studying her with a guarded expression. “Why are you here, exactly?” His voice was quiet, and he was looking at Byleth with a mixture of confusion and relief. “I haven’t seen you… almost six years.” A crooked ghost of a smile crossed his lips, there and then gone. “I’m glad to see you’re alright.”

“Me too,” Byleth said with a nod, her eyes flicking to his face as she actually, finally, looked at him. The years had taken a toll on him to some extent, his face holding a sort of maturity that hadn’t been there during the academy days. The chiseled jaw, the beard, the strand of hair in place of the braid added to that. But the gleam was still in his eyes, youthful and energetic, something that hadn’t yet been worn away.

“I had it covered,” Claude retorted, a frown crossing his face as he glanced away, briefly, before looking back at her.

“Really? When I walked, Seyed was about to…” she trailed off, the unspoken words hanging in the air between them. Claude shifted as well, one hand coming up to his neck and rubbing it self-consciously.

“You really do have perfect timing, Byleth,” he said quietly, and she frowned. It was… odd, not hearing his little nickname from her coming from his lips. But she supposed it had been six years since he unofficially graduated, and the student-teacher balance had shifted to a different one, now. He was a king - and although he probably didn’t know it right now - she was the Archbishop, akin to a queen.

“First the bandits, then the war after your five-year disappearance, and now this, rescuing me in my hour of need,” Claude continued, a slight smile on his lips. “You’re starting to make me look bad, the former Duke of the Leicester Alliance and Crown Prince of Almyra, being saved by a mercenary-turned-professor.”

Byleth brought her legs up onto the bed, pulling them close to her. “I’m actually the Archbishop, now,” she told him. When Claude didn’t give much of a visual reaction, she figured that he had either already deduced that or the walls he put up had become stronger, taller, thicker.

“I had a hunch,” Claude said after a few seconds, letting out a sigh and shifting so he could rest his back on the end of the bed. “I heard from some of my… let’s say contacts, that Fodlan had a new Archbishop after the war. Should’ve figured it would be you, though stars know why Rhea chose you.”

 _Because she wanted to use me,_ Byleth thought to herself, bitterly, clenching her hands into fists so hard her knuckles turned white. But she could get to that later. For now, she just wanted a chance to relax. It had been a while since she got to do that. A month's worth of traveling wasn't easy on her. 

“We have a lot to catch up on,” she observed quietly, keeping her eyes trained on Claude. “How about we have that cup of tea now, don’t you think? I could use a break.”

“I hear you,” Claude replied quietly, though she could see his eyes studying her, just as she was. She wondered what he was thinking, if she was trying to pick her apart and analyze her, figure out why she was there, just as he used to as a student, especially after she got the Sword of the Creator. But he glanced away, at the door, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll have someone get on that, when I get a chance. You like Almyran pine, right?”

“I’ve always been partial to a pitcher of ale,” Byleth replied with a shrug. “But Almyran Pine is alright.”

That incited a small bout of laughter from him, similar to what he had at during the academy days, when Edelgard or Dedue got caught in a rivalry match or one of the girls Lorenz attempted to flirt with rejected his advances. It was a warm, familiar laugh, and eased some of the tensenesses in the air.

“Ah, you always did prefer alcohol over a finely-brewed batch of leaves and water, didn’t you, Teach?” Claude said, shooting her a wink. “Should I get some of the finest brew Almyra has to offer, then, in celebration?”

“You’re tempting me, but I’ll stick to tea,” She replied, her lip quirking upwards.

“In that case, two cups of Almyran Pine, coming right up,” Claude said, standing up and shooting her a wink. “I have a few assorted bags in my room.” Something flashed in his face then, something Byleth couldn't describe. “We can catch up there.”

He extended a hand, and Byleth took it, sliding her legs off the bed. It was a lot smoother than the bed she had at the monastery, Rhea’s - no, her - bed included. Gods, she was getting sick of silk and satin. His hands were warm and calloused; the hands of an archer.

“Here, follow me,” Claude continued, glancing at the door. A frown crossed his face, before he looked back to her, winking. “I know every secret passageway here like the back of my hand, from the stables to the servant's quarters to my parent's room.”

“Why the secrecy?” She asked, tilting her head as her eyes darted to the door.

“Because I’m getting sick of everyone having their eyes on me,” Claude replied in a tired voice. “Plus, it’s only going to be a matter of time before someone is going to come look for me. I’d like to make it a little harder for them, so I could have some more time with my favorite Teach." He walked over to the small bookcase set against one wall, and Byleth watched as he pulled one of the books off, before reaching into the space it made. A click followed it. As he stepped back, the bookcase rotated to the side, and he looked at her with a glint in his eyes, setting the book back in its place.

“Come on, Teach,” he said, stepping into the tunnel, and Byleth followed. “That cup of tea won’t brew itself.”

“It’s dark,” she replied, frowning as she rested her hand on the wall. It was cold to the touch, rough under her skin. “Should we grab a torch?”

“Ah, I know these tunnels like the back of my hand,” Claude repeated, before grabbing her hand. “Just stick close to me, and you’ll be fine. Unless-“ he paused and shot her a wink, lips quirking upwards in a sly, mischievous smile. “You’re afraid of the dark?"

Byleth just glared at him. After a few seconds of silence, he glanced away, rubbing the back of his neck.

“No dice, eh?” Claude muttered, before pushing past her to close the bookshelf. It slammed, the noise booming in the silence of the tunnel, now pitch-black. Then, footsteps echoed as he walked back over to Byleth, grabbing her hand. It was a lot bigger than hers.

“I hope you know where you’re going,” Byleth muttered to him as he started forward. Even with her eyes adjusting to the dark, it would be hard to see without any light.

“Oh, surely you have more confidence in me than that, Teach,” Claude said, a light chuckle in his voice. He was only a few inches away from her, close enough where Byleth could feel the fabric of his shirt.

“I haven’t your experience with secret passageways, Claude,” she replied. “Much less secret passageways in the dark. Plus, I don’t have a clue as to where we’re going.”

“Well, I do. Just stick close to me, and you’ll be fine.”

Even as Byleth’s eyes started to adjust to the darkness, it was still difficult to see. Claude was just a silhouette next to her, which seemed like the perfect fit for someone like him. A man wrapped in mystery and secrets, wielding lies and fake smiles like swords, never quite sure what he was thinking in that head of his. Silence spread between the two of them as Byleth tried to figure out what to say next. There were many questions she had for him -him being a prince, his disappearance, him suddenly reappearing in Almyra - and Byleth figured he had a few for her. Mainly, why was she there?

After a few minutes as Claude led her through the tunnels, Byleth finally voiced one of the questions bubbling around in her mind.

“You’re a prince?” Byleth asked in a quiet voice, and she felt Claude stiffen beside her, his grip on her hand tightening just slightly. Then, he relaxed a bit, a quiet laugh escaping his lips.

“So you figured it out, huh, Teach?” He replied quietly, and Byleth glanced at him as he ran a hand through his hair. Then he sighed, turning the outline of his head to her. “I suppose it was only a matter of time before you did so, though.”

Claude stopped in his tracks, and Byleth did the same, turning to face him. She couldn’t see his face, but she had to guess his look was somewhere between bashful and annoyed. He was silent for a few minutes, and he appeared to be gathering his thoughts.

“You’ve probably figured it out even before the whole war started, but I’m not from Fodlan,” Claude said, his voice echoing throughout the passageway.

“Almyra,” Byleth replied quietly with a short nod. Dead giveaway, considering where they were now and his position. “I figured, but you never talked about it, so I assumed you didn’t want to talk about it, and that if you did, you would tell me - or someone, at least - when you’re ready.”

“Yeah.” Claude sucked in a slow breath and let it out, one of his fingers rubbing the back of her hand, his touch feather-light and burning warm spots into her knuckles. A nervous tick, she assumed. “And, as you already know, relations between Almyra and Fodlan have never really been good. If other people knew I was from Almyra, I would’ve been treated the same way people treat Cyril. Worse, though, because I was Duke Reigan’s grandson. What would the nobles have said about that, that the only heir to House Reigan was a half-blood bastard child?” There was a dark, sharp bitterness in his voice as he spoke, particularly when he said half-blood.

Byleth frowned, remembering all the insults she’d heard thrown in Cyril’s direction, both before and during the war, and bristling with anger on his behalf. She had tried her best to put those people in her place, but that was only one part of a much bigger hole of problems and prejudice.

“But I’m part Fodlaner, too, and… well, just about everyone here in the country knows,” he continued, shifting, and he started to walk again, pulling Byleth along behind him. “I could hide it relatively well in Fodlan, since no one but my grandfather and a few of the people I trusted in House Reigan knew about that. Since my mom is a queen, though, well… not a lot of people liked that. Like Seyed and… well, most of my relatives on my dad’s side.”

“Half-breed, bastard, good-for-nothing… those are just some of the insults hurled my way throughout my life.” His voice was quiet, now, but there was a dark venom laced to it, a rough sound she hadn’t heard from him in, well… ever. “As I’ve said before, there have been attempts on my life, just because of where my mom was from. My parents... they tried to help, to some extent, but… I had to fend for myself from Seyed and my other cousins most of the time. It’s why I started to dabble in poisons, create schemes and plans, learned to wield my words and body language as weapons, to keep me safe.”

“I’m sorry,” Byleth said. It was all she could offer, aside from cutting down all the people who treated him like that. She was reminded of Dedue, who had disappeared after the war as well. Where had he gone? Did he go back to Duscar? Or was he out traveling the world, looking for something to give him purpose?

A hollow, bitter laugh escaped Claude’s mouth, a sound that made something turn in Byleth’s gut.

“It’s not your fault, Teach,” he told her, giving her hand a quick squeeze. Then he sucked in a breath, before letting it out, slowly. “I hate to say it, but… that’s the way the world is, sadly. Which is why I’ve dedicated my life to getting where I am right now, as king. I've spent the last few years clawing my way up here, to the top, to a place where I can actually do something.”

“You want to make it better,” Byleth reasoned, looking up at him. She couldn’t see his face, not clearly, but she wondered if that was a small smile she saw on Claude’s face.

“Uh-huh. It’s why I went to Fodlan, to Garreg Mach, in the first place, once I learned more about my mother’s side of the family. I figured that, if I ‘inherited’ my title as Duke Reigan, I could… I could start making the steps I needed to help do away with this… this hatred, between Fodlan and Almyra.”

They turned a corner, the sound of Claude's boots loud in the silence of the passageway.

“I don’t know if it worked or not, mostly because I was focused on keeping the peace between us and the Empire during the war and maintaining neutrality, but…” Claude paused, as if considering what words to use next. “You showed up, and not long after, the Empire fell. So, doing all that I could there, I came back here. Now, I’m going to try and break down Fodlan’s Throat from this side of the border.”

Claude stopped, then, and rapped his knuckles on the wall next to him. The sound of wood, compared to the sound of stone.

“Ah, we’re here. Hang on, Teach.”

Byleth tried to see what Claude was doing this time, but it was too dark to tell. Then, there was a creaking noise as the wall in front of them rotated to the side, like the fake bookshelf in the infirmary. It was lighter on the other side, and she winced, covered her eyes from the sudden brightness of it. Claude grabbed her other hand, pulling her forward. As Byleth tried to get her eyes to adjust to the natural light of the room, she heard the creaking sound again as Claude closed the door to the secret passage.

When her eyes had adjusted, she looked around the large and rather lavish room - much fancier than her own room at the Monastery - as Claude walked over to a desk, pressed against one wall. The room had large windows with some semblance of a curtain attached to the top, one of them drawn to the side to let in the sunlight. A bed was standing a few feet from it, with a pile of blankets bundled up on top of it. There was also a large table shoved in the corner, with a few chairs around it, and what looked mysteriously like a Hero’s Relic was leaning against it. Claude's probably.

A dresser sat to the side of her, and there were several bookshelves strung about the room. But they were mostly empty, with many of the books lying on the bed, the ground, or the desk Claude was at. Her lips quirked up at the resemblance of his room back at Garreg Mach. When she got back, she would have to send him some of the items he’d left in his room after the invasions. Mostly everyone had gotten their items before they left, after the war had ended, aside from the three heirs, Hubert, and Dedue. She had thrown Dimitri, Huberts and Edelgard’s, although Byleth recognized with some bitterness she may have to throw out Dedue’s, too. Gods knew when she would see him again, if she even would.

“Take a seat anywhere you want, Teach,” Claude said, making a gesture with his hand as he focused on the tea. “I’ll get this brewed, then we can really catch up.”

“Thanks,” She said, her legs automatically taking her to the piece of furniture nearest to her: the bed. Byleth flopped down on it rather ungracefully, almost face-planting into a book, but she’d gotten little rest while scouring Al Nasra for him. Going up that giant compound and fighting Seyed didn’t help. Plus, she figured if there was anyone who wouldn’t mind the Archbishop of Fodlan face-planting herself onto a bed like she’d tripped, it would be Claude. So she collapsed, the Sword of the Creator still heavy on her back.


	13. Missing Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth and Claude recite what has happened to them in the past six years, including Claude's disappearance after Grondor.

**Red Wolf Moon, 11/21**   
**Claude**

Out of the corner of his eye, Claude watched with some amusement as Byleth went and collapsed onto the bed, like a world-weary traveler rather than the Archbishop and ruler of Fodlan. It was a move that Byleth Eisner, the Ashen Demon, would do. Not Lady or Archbishop Byleth, Ruler of Fodlan. Even though her role had changed, her mannerisms certainly hadn’t.

In fact, almost nothing about her seemed to have changed - aside from her role - since he last saw her. Sure, she was dressed in Almyran silks, and her hair had been pulled up into a ponytail, but her gaze, her posture, her mannerisms were all reminiscent of The Ashen Demon. She hadn’t changed in the past five years: Claude had. Him and everyone else.

“Careful,” he said to her, glancing at the tea, before looking at her. Byleth turned her head to the side to look at him, and he felt a smile appear on his face. Not entirely truthful, but not a one-hundred percent fake one, either. Somewhere in between. “It may seem comfy now, but it gets less so over time.”

“I’m aware. Rhea’s bed is the same,” She replied, before pulling out one of the books from under her hip and dropping it to the floor. “Now I understand why you hated the Roundtable conference so much. It… it hasn’t been easy to adjust.”

“First a mercenary, then a professor, then presumed dead for five years, and now the Archbishop of the Church of Serios,” Claude mused. “That’s a big shift.” He was silent for a few moments as he stood up and walked over with the chair, setting it at the edge of the bed, before shoving the covers off. Then, he walked back and brought the tray of tea over with him, setting it on the seat.

“Speaking of five years, where have you been, Byleth?” Claude asked, glancing at her out of the corner of his eyes while, before focusing on pouring the tea. “Everyone thought you were dead, you know.” Then he glanced down at the ground, briefly. “Myself included.”

He knew it was a reasonable conclusion to come to - after all, he had seen her fall, heard her screaming. But still, no body was ever recovered, just like Dimitri. Claude still felt a little bit guilty about not searching for her harder, and, likewise, Dimitri. Then maybe the prince wouldn’t be dead, killed by Edelgard’s hand at Grondor. Maybe if he had been faster- he cut that train of thought off before it went too far. 

“I didn’t believe it when I woke up and realized five years had passed,” Byleth said silently as she grabbed her cup, startling Claude out of his thoughts. He glanced her way, but she was looking down at the cup, a slight frown on her face. “It wasn’t until I saw… Until I saw Edelgard, did it hit me. That I lost five years of my life.”

“Woke up?” Claude asked, frowning. He could ask about Edelgard later; what he was more curious about were the words she just said. Her gaze, which had been focused on what he assumed was his earring, snapped over to his eyes. “What do you mean by that?”

A slight furrow appeared on Byleth’s forehead as she frowned, almost undetectable. “I… I was sleeping. I think. The last thing I remember was… was Thales, knocking me off the cliff. Then pain, then darkness… and then I woke up after getting pulled out of a river, and five years had passed.”

Despite himself, Claude huffed out a laugh, winking at her. “Good one, Teach,” he said, glancing at her, before frowning as he studied her face. “But… that’s not your lying face. And you did just… just vanish, for five years, with no word on your whereabouts.”

“It’s true,” Byleth said with a lilt of sadness to her voice. “I still don’t know how that happened… or why I… why I didn’t die in the first place. I mean, I fell off a fucking cliff, for Gods' sake.”

Claude nodded, the image of Byleth falling in his mind as he took a sip of his tea. Gods, did he need that. Even just the scent of his favorite tea was calming, and it was a naturally-brewed one from Almyra. The Almyran Pine in Fodlan was similar in taste, but it lacked one thing; the taste of home.

“I saw you fall,” Claude said in a quiet voice once he finished drinking, and he saw Byleth glance at him out of the corner of her eye. Despite himself, he felt a smile curve up on his face. “And yet, you’re sitting right next to me, drinking a cup of Almyran Pine needles. You really are a mysterious one, Teach.”

“You did?” Byleth asked, glancing up at him. He nodded, glancing down at the cup in his hands.

“Uh-huh,” he replied quietly. “I… I tried to reach you, but… by the time I got there-”

“It’s not your fault,” Byleth told him, shaking her head, and when he glanced at her, he saw her hands tightening on the cup. “It’s mine, to some extent.”

“No, I… I saw what happened,” Claude said, a spark of anger flaring up in his chest at that. “I saw that… that white-haired guy you talked about, the one who stopped you from saving Jeralt… I saw him shoot that magic attack at you. I saw you fall. I... I heard you screaming." The next five years were spent wondering what would've changed if he had been just a scooch faster.

Of course, he was still curious about the giant white dragon that had been there - sure, he had a few theories, mainly it being the Immaculate One - but he didn’t know for sure what the hell that was. Where the fuck did it come from, anyways? 

“And I probably wouldn’t have fallen in the first place if I had listened to Rhea,” Byleth protested, before taking a sip of her drink. “She… she told me to go help you and the other students escape, but… then I saw the demonic beasts and Rhea and… and I made an amateur move by choosing to help her instead of helping you guys escape. That's my second-biggest regret to this day, since the one time I don't follow orders, and I lost five years of my life.”

It took Claude a moment to realize what Byleth was saying, and when he did, he looked to her, sure that he wasn’t able to hide the surprise in his face. Aside from the pale-skinned man - Thales, Byleth had called him - there was only one person near Byleth; the mysterious dragon.

“Wait… was Rhea the… was she the giant white dragon from five years ago? The Immaculate One?” Claude queried, and Byleth gave a nod. _Holy shit._

“Yeah… a lot has happened since I’ve last seen you. But we can get into that later.” She paused and took another sip of her tea, turning so she was facing her. “I’m more curious about where the hell you’ve been these last six months.”

“Here, mostly,” Claude replied easily, before setting his teacup on the tray and grabbing one of the cookies there. It was a little more impromptu than their usual tea times, but there was something about this that was more relaxed as well. “Why?”

Byleth blinked and looked up at him, a look of surprise on her face, though it was hard to tell for anyone who didn't know her it was surprise. But Claude could see it, the slight widening of her eyes and raising of her eyebrows, just a half-inch. “You mean you don’t know?”

“Don’t know what?”

Her eyes darted to the table in the corner of the room, where Failnaught had been resting when he was captured, the quiver of arrows next to it. Then, she looked back to him, lips turned downwards and brows furrowed in a look Claude knew to be her worried face.

“You’ve been missing since Grondor, Claude,” Byleth told him quietly, meeting his eyes. He stilled, the cookie falling out of his hands and to the bed.

“Missing?” He repeated, blinking, and he found himself unable to look away from her gaze. They were the same sea green color that he remembered, but now they seemed so much more… tired. Wiser. Older. “You… you’re joking, right? What do you mean by missing?”

Byleth sighed, glancing down at her teacup, and she shook her head. “I got a letter two days after Grondor,” she explained quietly, and Claude gulped, picking up his cookie before he got crumbs all over his bed. “We received news about Edelgard being injured, Dimtri was dead, and… no one could find you. No one has found you since then, not until I started looking last month.” A frown crossed her lips as her eyes darted up at him. “It was as if you disappeared off the face of the earth, just as I had.”

“Grondor, huh?” Claude grumbled, resting his elbow on his knee and resting using it to prop his head up. “I’ve been doing my best to forget that shitshow ever since it happened.” Then a bitter laugh escaped his lips. “As far as class reunions go, it had to be one of the worst ones in history.”

“Do you mind if I ask about what happened, there?” Byleth said, sensing his unease about the whole thing. “I don’t quite know what happened, other than the fact that Dimitri died, Edelgard was injured, and you went missing. I wasn't there when it happened, as you well know.”

Claude sighed, setting the cookie on the tray and grabbing the cup of tea. Maybe he should’ve gone for the pitcher of ale after all. Even now, it still wasn’t easy to remember all the chaos there, all the death and smoke and fighting. He wasn't much of an alcoholic, but Claude could admit it might help numb some of the still-fresh pain that he felt every so often, when he thought of Dimitri and everyone else that had been at Grondor.

“To be blunt… Grondor was a mess,” He stated, taking a sip of his tea, mentally preparing himself, heart wringing in his chest. Six months hadn't dulled the pain of seeing all his friends, his classmates, die like that, all for Edelgard's 'better cause'. “Just… absolute chaos. At first, when I saw Kingdom banners - saw Dimitri - I actually thought that I could team up with him, win against Edelgard. After all, we did have a common enemy in her.

“But Dimitri… something happened to him since we last saw him five years ago, since his supposed execution. You probably remember how he seemed to be a lot… let’s say morbid after Edelgard’s reveal, do you? When he was muttering under his breath about killing Edelgard and all that stuff?” Taking her head off?"  
  
“I do,” Byleth said with a nod, before a slight frown crossed her face, a shadow passing over her eyes. “During that month, Felix started to say ‘the boar is starting to lose it’, ‘his true colors are showing’, stuff like that. Though I didn’t quite know what he meant by that.”

Claude frowned, wrapping his hands around the teacup, and letting out a long sigh. “I do. When I saw him… Dimitri wasn’t the kind-natured, golden-hearted prince we knew and love. He was… he was like a beast, shouting and cutting down anyone who was in his path as he made his way to Edelgard, whether they were dressed in yellow or blue. I heard him saying, 'kill every last one of them'.

“He didn’t care about who he hurt, who he killed. Dimitri just… cleaved right through Imperial and Alliance lines, cutting through people with Arehdbar like butter.” Claude paused, the memories of the battle flashing in his mind, and he shuddered at the memory of the walking husk that was Dimitri. “That… that spark of hope I had when I saw him just vanished, seeing him like that. Pretty soon, all three of our armies were clashing. Kingdom, Empire or Alliance… they attacked anyone who wasn’t an ally. There was so much death, so much senseless death and killing and-”

One more, Claude paused, sucking in a deep breath, and he could feel Byleth’s hands on his own as they shook. They were warm against his, and had calluses on them, the hands of a warrior, a mercenary. After a few seconds, he let out a shaky sigh, and he took another sip of his drink. He _really_ should’ve gotten the pitcher of ale instead.

“I tried to talk to him,” Claude continued. “But I was on the far side of Grondor, in the same area you started out during the mock battle five years ago. It was tough, trying to fight two armies at the same time while also avoiding the ballista at the hill. It didn’t take a genius, though, to figure out Dimitri was going after Edelgard. Quite a few of the Kingdom soldiers focused their troops on the Empire, but the skirmishes between the Alliance and Kingdom were… unavoidable.”

“I couldn’t reach him in time, though… by the time I finally reached him and Edelgard… she had killed him.”

Claude felt Byleth’s hands tighten on his, and she started to rub her thumb against his knuckles.

“I didn’t know the prince as well as I probably should’ve, but… I think, in a different life, we might’ve been friends. And after hearing of his supposed execution and then seeming him alive, only for him to die right in front of my eyes before I could reach him… Suffice to say I got pissed.”

Looking up from the bed, Claude’s gaze darted towards Failnaught, still resting at the table. Since he got back, he hadn’t dared to touch the thing, except when he was cleaning it in case he never needed it. Hopefully, he never would again, but… he knew that achieving his dream of unity between Fodlan and Almyra wouldn’t be one so readily accepted by either country. Though hopefully, with Byleth as the Archbishop, that would make the process go a bit smoother.

“The bow over there, the one against the table… It's the Hero’s Relic, Failnaught, the one House Reigan owns. I got it after my grandfather’s death. Hands-down one of the best bows I’ve ever had, for better or for worse.”

Then Claude shook his head: he was rambling.

“Anyways, Edelgard was in my sight, and I figured that, if I killed her, the war would end that much sooner,” Claude continued as Byleth shifted in her spot. “So I tried to… well, kill her. It looked like Dimitri had landed a few hits on her, and I got a few shots of my own on her as well. But I forgot about Hubert, her vassal. One moment, I was in the air - wyvern, before you ask. The next, I was on the ground, a searing, sickening pain in my side. He’s a strong magic user, that’s for sure. Probably about as strong as Lysithea.”

Pausing, Claude pulled his hands away from Byleth’s, setting his cup down on the tray, before pulling his shirt up, just slightly. Doing so revealed the rather ugly scar Hubert’s magic left there, a circle in his side, just under his ribcage, the skin black with magic. Hands-down one of the worse injuries he had ever gotten. Byleth stiffened, her eyes widening, and she slowly, hesitantly reached out, pressing a gentle finger to his scar. Claude gulped, his heart fluttering.

“I see,” she said quietly, pulling her hand back, and Claude pulled his shirt down, sighed, rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m… I’m sorry. I’ve trained with Hubert before. I know first-hand just how… how strong he was. Though deadly is probably a better word for it.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault, Teach,” Claude said, trying and failing to crack a light-hearted grin to lighten the mood. “It wasn’t like you did it.”

Something akin to guilt seemed to flash in her eyes, so he continued his story.

“Deadly is correct,” he continued. “Pretty much everything else after that is… is a blur. Most of what I remember is me trying to get away from Hubert and Edelgard before I ended up like Dimitri… I guess I got separated from the rest of the troops. But I was injured, disoriented, just… beat up.” He sighed. “I vaguely remember it making it to a village not too far from Grondor. There, I found an anti-Imperialist doctor, who agreed to help me. The next two months I spent on bed rest, trying to recover from the injury. By the time the doctor allowed me to leave, the war had… already ended.”

“What about after?” Byleth asked, tilting her head. “What about the Alliance? You are - _were_ \- the leader, after all.”

“The Kingdom and the Empire had all but collapsed, and quite frankly, the Alliance wasn’t much better. I barely managed to keep it afloat while you were missing, keep it from fraying and splitting into two. I figured that Rhea would’ve just done the smart thing and unite them, to prevent further... incidents like the war.” Claude sighed, ran a hand through his hair.

“Plus, as you know, I have duties elsewhere. I figured that not even Rhea would run it into the ground. I didn’t know that I had been missing since Grondor, either, so I didn’t see any reason to stay.”

“What about me?”

Claude pause, a prickle of shame creeping up his spine, and he glanced away from Byleth.

“I figured that, with Rhea returning to her role as Archbishop, you’d just go back to being a mercenary. And if that was true, it would be impossible to find you.” He paused once more to grab the half-eaten cookie he had left on the tray and took a bite, chewing thoughtfully.

“Plus, I don’t know if you can tell, but the situation here in Almyra isn’t as stable as it looks. It wasn’t until about... two or so months ago did I get the news that Fodlan had a new Archbishop, and I figured that it was you. So then I just figured that we could meet up for politics and all that.” He paused and raised his cup, cracking another small, fake smile at her. “And a cup of tea, perhaps.”

Byleth nodded, her fingers flexing on the cup, and Claude glanced at her, trying to find something to read on her face. But it was as blank as the day he met her.

Oh, how long ago that seemed, back when the three Lords were still friends, and everyone was safe and happy and no one was killing each other. Now, his dream was that much closer to being achieved, but at what cost?

“How is everyone?” He asked, taking a sip of his tea. “Did everyone make it out safely?”

“Most of them did, yeah,” Byleth replied, looking down at her tea. “But Edelgard and Dimitri… they’re both dead. Even I can’t change that.”

“And what about Rhea? Last I heard, she was being held in the Imperial Capital. Did you find her there, or did… did Edelgard kill her?”

“She was alive - at first.”

*** * ***   
**Byleth**

By the time she finished explaining all that had happened to her after she woke up - including some bits and pieces of her connection to Sothis and what happened at the Sealed forest, why her hair and eye turned green - the tea was cold, and Claude was tense, shoulders bunched up and eyes narrowed.

“Rhea wanted to use you?” He asked her in a quiet voice, and the barely-restrained anger in his voice would be impossible to detect, had Byleth not known Claude as well as she did.

“Yeah,” she said, unable to keep her own lace of bitterness out of his voice. A vassal, for the Goddess - that was all she was supposed to be. Meant to trade her life, her soul, her friends, so Rhea could get her mother back. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t glad that Rhea was dead.

Claude grunted and shook his head, rubbing his forehead. “Tch… I never trusted Rhea, and I never liked how she seemed to be so fond of you, but… but this? Wanting to use you like that? That’s just… wrong.”

Despite herself, Byleth let out a bitter laugh. “What’s worse is knowing that, to some extent, Edelgard had been right about the Church.” That was probably what hurt most of all. How much more of the Church’s secrets would she have uncovered if she had joined with Edelgard? How many would she have lost? Would she still know what Rhea was trying to do to her?

“The ceremony at the Holy Tomb,” Claude said after a few seconds of silence, and Byleth could feel his eyes on her, burning a hole through him. “Was that… did Rhea try to use that ceremony to… to bring Sothis back?”

“I guess,” Byleth replied, shrugging. “I don’t know… Rhea died before I could ask any more questions.”

Claude sighed a long-suffering sigh, and was silent for a few minutes. “That’s… a whole lot of information to take in,” He muttered. “The Hero’s Relics being bones, your connection to the Goddess, Rhea being Serios and the Immaculate One…”

“Imagine how I feel about it,” Byleth said, tightening her grip on her cup, even though the cup was empty and the rest of the tea was cold. “I mean, I was supposed to… I was supposed to _die_ at that ceremony in the Holy Tomb, have my life replaced by Sothis’... I’m only saying this because I know you never gave a damn about the Church, but… I’m glad Rhea’s dead.”

“Honestly? I don’t blame you.” For a few seconds, he was silent, and then he flopped back on the bed. “What about Seteth and Flayn?”

“They’re alright,” she replied. “They knew about Rhea’s… form, and her being Saint Serios, but they didn’t know what she wanted to do with me, not until about the same time I did. But they’re alright, and Flayn is still as energetic as ever, while Seteth is still as strict as ever.”

“You know, speaking of the advisor, how the hell did you manage to convince him to come all the way out here, anyway?”

“I wore him down, I guess,” Byleth replied. “Plus, I made the very compelling argument that you’ve only been missing for half a year, while I was missing for five, but there I stood.”

“Fair point,” Claude said. “Well, I’m glad to hear everyone else is okay. Even Lorenz, of all people.” A pause, then he added “I’m glad to see you’re alive too, Teach.”

She nodded. “Me too.” Closing her eyes, Byleth looked up at the ceiling, feeling a twinge of jealousy about how nice his room was. Far fancier than her room at Garreg Mach. “I’m glad to see at least one of you three got out of the war alive.”

Claude’s only response was another sigh before he sat up. “For better or worse,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m just glad this damn war is over.”

“Yeah. The only problem is, I have no idea how to run a damn country. Seteth’s been doing most of it since I took over; I’ve just been focusing on the shit-ton of paperwork we have.”

A laugh escaped Claude’s lips. “It’ll get better, once Fodlan starts to. For now, though, I think you should just focus on keeping it safe and secure, and, you know, actually rebuilding it,” Claude replied, before shooting her his familiar wink. “You know, if you want me to, I could give you a few pointers. I did manage to keep the Alliance together for five years, after all.”

“Well, you’ve had time to prepare,” Byleth told him, pulling her legs up onto the bed. “Plus, I’m afraid I don’t have your charm or silver tongue.”

“Au contraire, Byleth,” Claude replied. “Maybe you don’t have my charm, sure. But you do have a way with words, for sure, whether you realize it or not. Plus, you’ve got a good head, and a lot of people are on your side, myself included. As long as you don’t fuck it up like Rhea or Edelgard, you’ll do just fine.”

Byleth let out a breath and shook her head. She was about to say something when she heard pounding on the door, and someone - she assumed it was Claude’s father - shouted through the door in Almyran. A groan escaped Claude’s lips as he dropped his head into his hands.

“Ugh, and here comes the work,” he grumbled. “So much for a moment of peace. My aunt and uncle are here about Seyed. No doubt they’ll want an answer as to what the hell happened.”

“I’d come with, but I don’t know any Almyran,” Byleth replied. Claude, meanwhile, slid off the bed and grabbed the tray.

“I’ll be fine, though I’m probably going to get into a shouting match with them,” A pause, then, “Maybe a fistfight,” Claude told her, walking back to his desk. His next words had a hint of bitterness to them. “Plus, knowing them, they’re not going to take kindly to someone from Fodlan.”

Byleth sighed, but statistically, she knew he was right. She’d gotten her fair share of dirty looks when she first arrived, even from the soldiers she fought with while they were rescuing Claude. It was probably best for both of them if neither of them knew she was here.

“What should I do, then?”

Setting the tray down, Claude turned and rested on the desk. “If I could find my mom or Nader, I could have one of them take you to a room to rest at until you leave,” he replied after a few seconds of thought. “It’ll be a little bit out of the way and secluded, though; I hope you don’t. I just don’t want anyone getting ideas.” Another pause as he sighed. “Not that I have much of a reputation to hold up; it was tarnished the day I was born.”

“That’s fine; I like seclusion sometimes.”

Another laugh escaped Claude’s lips as he looked at her, eyes twinkling with the mischievous gleam she knew so well. “You are so consistent, Teach,” he said, and Byleth frowned, unsure if she should take that as a compliment or an insult. Then, more pounding on the door, and more stuff in Almyran. Claude sighed and replied back in kind.

“I got to go,” he replied, before his eyes slid to the bookshelf that hid the secret passage. Back to Byleth. “Do you mind waiting in there until I can have someone come get you? Or you could just… I dunno, hide behind the bed if you prefer. Whatever works for you.”

“If you can open it, I can wait for a bit,” she replied. Claude nodded, walked over, and clicked what Byleth presumed was another switch and the bookcase turned to the side. He stepped back, making an exaggerated sweeping gesture with his hand. “Milady.”

“Ass,” Byleth replied, rolling her eyes as she stepped in. Claude faked a look of hurt, pressing a hand to his chest.

“Ah, you wound me, Teach,” he said, but a smile was on his face. “It shouldn’t be long. Just don’t wander off, or you might get lost.” A pause, as something flashed in his eyes, something Byleth couldn’t describe. Then, “Thank you, Byleth.”

What was he thanking her for? Helping to save him when he was attacked by the bandits, when he was kidnapped by Seyed, for being there for him, or something else entirely? Byleth didn’t know; perhaps she didn’t want to. So, instead, she gave a nod and replied with, “You’re welcome.”

**Author's Note:**

> This seemed so much longer when I had it on Google docs and Tumblr my god
> 
> Hey! If you made it all the way down here I thank you for doing so (I need validation don't mind me). I have dabbled in a few Claudeleth fanfictions before, but it was usually just short stories, not longfics. But I hope you guys take my half-baked story idea that I cannot get out of my head! This game - and Claude - have snatched my heart and ran away with it. Basically SIlver Snow but mashed with Claude's ending from Golden Deer.
> 
> I'll try to update at least once a week, but we'll see if that actually happens.


End file.
